


Alpha Dog and Omegalomaniac

by notlikelybutpossible



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg - mentioned, Omega Armitage Hux, mindreading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28357107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlikelybutpossible/pseuds/notlikelybutpossible
Summary: Inexperienced alpha Kylo Ren gets stranded on Hoth with reluctant omega Armitage Hux. Guess who’s going into heat. Guess who has to help him...
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 45
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to try writing an omegaverse fic for a while, so I hope I've got the details consistent...
> 
> This installment takes place in the gap (?) between TFA and TLJ. Almost _movie_ canon-compliant, but backstories were adjusted to suit my own nefarious purposes...
> 
> Title is from the Fall Out Boy song ['Alpha Dog' (YouTube link)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuBbEUUeRSE) – I got super into them mid-2020, around the time I started this fic, proving that there is no fandom I can’t be late for...

This is too stupid for words. They weren't even attacked, the shuttle wasn't damaged, it must have been some kind of engine fault – bad luck or sloppy maintenance. And they've crash-landed on fucking _Hoth_ , of all places. Ren managed to keep himself in one piece, but the speed of their frantic descent meant neither his pilot skills nor his Force skills could save the shuttle itself.  
  
His brain comes back online to find transparisteel-studded whiteness six inches from his face. The ship ended up plunged nose-first into a snow bank, he recalls. The view shield of the cockpit has collapsed inward, and if he weren't shielding himself, it would have turned him into paste.  
  
He isn't sure how long he lost consciousness for, but the instrument panel is still smoking. He shifts, body aching with the echoes of impact, the seat straps tight around him. Where's his… Stiff fingers find the hilt of his lightsaber and he powers it on, angling the crackling blade so it cuts through the straps.  
  
Suppressing a groan, he stumbles to the warped door of the cockpit, yanking it, unsurprised when it doesn't budge. There's an unpleasant screeching as he tries again, muscles straining against the metal.

“Lord Ren?” comes a voice from beyond it. Oh great. Hux is fine. He doesn't remember deciding to shield him too, but he clearly must have. The durasteel panel nearly whacks the General, when he Force-propels it out of the way with a frustrated growl.

Hux tries to pretend he didn't jump. “You're alive,” he says, impassively, doing a better job of pretending he isn't relieved.

“Apparently.” Ren is spitefully glad to see the man's lip is split, and there's blood trickling down from his hairline.  
  
There isn't much left of the shuttle's structure, and snow is already drifting inside, starting to bury it. He follows Hux out through a jagged hole, wincing at the bright white. When his eyes have adjusted, he realises Hux is pointing back down their trajectory. He'd managed to flatten the angle enough that they skimmed along the ground instead of slamming face first into it. The underside of the ship got pulverised, pulled apart by the arctic tundra – Ren can see bits of metal littered in a long trail leading up to the crash site.  
  
“Kriffing _Hoth_ ,” mutters Hux. He must have recognised it through a viewport, in the seconds after they popped out of hyperspace. It's hardly the only planet with terrain like this, but not many are entirely covered by it. There's nothing here except icy snow and icy ocean. It's below freezing, even in calm weather like this, with the faint warmth of the sun overhead. They need to get off this planet, but one glance at the remains of the shuttle says its flying days are over.  
  
Ren sighs. “Does the ship have a distress beacon?”

“Destroyed,” says Hux, voice clipped. “I already checked it.” The condescending tone immediately annoys Ren. Of course Hux went for the beacon before he thought to find out if _Ren_ was alive.

Except… He tries to rearrange his thinking. Except that Hux couldn't have opened the cockpit door. Carefully, Ren touches his thoughts, catching an image of Hux banging on the panel, deciding Ren must be dead when he didn't respond.  
  
“What about your communicator?”

Expression stony, Hux pulls out a limp bundle of exposed wires and splintered casing. “Believe it or not, I thought of that too.” Well, excuse Ren for passing out with the effort of protecting them both.  
  
“Can the First Order track us here?”

Hux frowns. “No. They weren't expecting us to make a jump – the tracker has to be locked on to a ship before it enters hyperspace.”  
  
He's irritated that Ren doesn't even know _that_ much about the Order's most game-changing technology. He's thinking it's typical of the self-absorbed, tantrum-prone child. Ren resists the urge to catapult him into a snow drift. He'd barely have to flick his fingers...  
  
“What about a personal tracker?” he asks, remembering the one that had allowed Hux to find him on Starkiller Base, before the planet collapsed. Hux is still proud of himself for sneaking it into his belt, and gleeful that Ren couldn't punish him for the impertinence, because it _did_ save his life.

Hux scoffs, mouth pulling into a sneer. “Those things only work at close range, they're designed for finding someone aboard a ship or a battlestation, if they stop answering comms.” Hoth is remote already, but it's also the other side of the galaxy from where the fleet happens to be stationed.

“Then the First Order have no idea where we are?” _They_ have no idea where they are, not in any useful sense.

“No. And we currently have no way to tell them. So if you're done making useless suggestions, we need to get the shuttle's comms system working.” Hux climbs back into the husk of the ship.

“You do it. I need to meditate.”

Hux's bright hair reappears through the hole. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, now. Yes, really. Try not to break anything while I'm gone.” As if there's anything left to break.

Ren crosses his legs, closing his eyes against the glare from the snow, and from Hux. He can ignore the discomfort of the cold, but he doesn't need to come back to a frozen body, so he sets up a barrier to keep the wind and snow off him. He's childishly pleased to sense Hux's surprise when he levitates, hovering a few inches above the ground, before he draws his awareness away from the physical world. Mediation is always comforting, like slipping into a deep, calm pool, leaving his anger behind.  
  
He reaches for Snoke, sending supplication along with his need for assistance. After his humiliation at Rey's hand, after the training Snoke put him through, he's wary of asking his master for help. It doesn't matter that this is hardly _his_ fault – he shouldn't have allowed himself to become so helpless.  
  
But this is not a situation that warrants clinging to pride. Hoth is inhospitable and deserted. The only way to get off it fast enough to avoid dying here is to contact someone who can help them.

< _Master. We are stranded._ > He's sure Snoke felt his sudden disappearance, and he's equally sure Snoke can feel him now. Distance means nothing to the Force, though it means so much to physical bodies.  
  
< _I must ask that you direct the First Order to retrieve us. I will not be able to keep your pet General alive for long._ >

There's no response. Actually, _less_ than no response, as if Snoke has withdrawn from him, leaving a hollow place inside his mind. Ren knows better than to assume he isn't watching, but clearly he intends this as another test. The challenge will be to survive until he can divine the test's purpose and complete it.

He turns his focus to Hoth, to the barren, wintry bluffs and plains stretching away from him. He can feel the way the Force flows through the planet, a low thrum underlying everything. He's looking for the tiny ripples that life causes – anything alive here needs food and shelter, like they do, and is their best bet for finding it.

He has to deliberately block Hux's signature out – the man might be as force-sensitive as a trash compactor, but the contrast with the empty world around them makes him shine like a hololamp. He can feel a few twitches that must be animals – tauntauns, maybe? – but no sign of anything else, even when he lets his senses expand as far as he dares.  
  
Buildings, dwellings and other lifeless structures are much harder to discern. He knows there was a rebel base on Hoth, during the Galactic Civil War – but it might be on the other side of the planet for all he can tell.  
  
Time passes differently when he meditates. He's not sure how long he's been scanning for, when he decides to call it. He breathes out in an infinitely long sigh, slowly pulling back into his body. Hux is clanging and stomping around in the shuttle, partly in a petty attempt to disrupt Ren, and partly to keep himself warm.

Ren leaps nimbly up, making him jump. Again. “Who else was it going to be?” he asks, caustically.

“On Hoth? A wampa. Though a wampa would probably be more useful company than you...”

Ren doesn't dignify this with a response, looking instead at the pile of stuff Hux has gathered. There's not much. The shuttle wasn't kitted out for long distance journeys, but there still should have been the standard emergency supplies... Lost in the crash, it seems. Hux has found a couple of packets of preserved meat and flatbread, presumably squirrelled away by a previous pilot, and he's detached one of the shuttle's interior lights, connecting it to the battery from his comlink to make a rudimentary flashlight.  
  
Belatedly, Ren realises the very fact that Hux has rounded up supplies means the shuttle's comms systems are beyond saving. Hux catches his glance towards the caved-in cockpit.

“The transmitter is gone,” he says. “Everything else is smashed. I extracted some parts that might be useful, but without a transmitter, we're screwed.” He crouches down, putting the food and the collection of electronics into the pockets of his greatcoat. He doesn't ask Ren to carry anything.  
  
“I suppose you couldn't reach anyone, via your–” He waggles his fingers. It's a dismissive gesture he always uses for the Force, after Ren threw him into a wall for calling it 'Jedi mumbo-jumbo'.

“No.”

“Not even the Supreme Leader?” Hux is assuming the Force can be used for communication, he has no real knowledge. In fact, his ignorance borders on defiant.

“No,” says Ren, again.

Something triumphant flickers in Hux's ice-chip eyes. “Surely the Supreme Leader wouldn't abandon his favourite apprentice to die in the snow...”  
  
Ren raises one hand, wrapping the Force around Hux's neck. Whatever else Hux had been about to say dies in a choked whimper. His fingers come to his throat, scrabbling at nothing.

“Do not question the Supreme Leader. You aren't qualified to _guess_ at his intentions. You are a tool. You carry out his orders. That is _all_ you do.”

“Yes, Lord Ren,” Hux croaks, barely audible. “Please—”  
  
Ren squeezes tighter, keeping the pressure on until Hux's face is entirely red, lips flecked with spittle, and he feels the fear rolling off him tip into real panic. Then he lets go, watching impassively as Hux collapses to the floor, gasping and clutching his neck.  
  
“We can't stay here,” says Ren.  
  
Even if the First Order eventually search Hoth, they'd have to scour the whole planet – there's nothing to draw them to the crashed shuttle, so there's no longer any point staying there. They might as well pick a direction and hope they get ridiculously lucky.

“Where—” Hux stops himself. _Where are going to go then?_ he would have said, if he hadn't just been reminded not to provoke Ren's anger.

“We follow the crash trail, in case anything useful got scattered, then we head for the bluffs beyond them.” Bluffs might mean caves, or at least more shelter from the wind than they have right now. “Worse weather is coming.”  
  
He could sense the storm while he was meditating, creeping up slowly. Despite his bloodshot eyes, Hux is looking at him like he's stating the obvious, so he declines to explain it. 'Strategic genius' General Hux hasn't come up with any other ideas, anyway.  
  
He can feel the man's relief that Ren's plan matches his own, as Hux follows him out of the shuttle. He was prepared to argue, if Ren had proposed something idiotic, but he's very, very aware that Ren might kill him, next time his anger spikes. There are no witnesses here, no Snoke – nothing to encourage him to restrain his temper.  
  
The debris trail from their crash stretches for four klicks. The snow is packed down, relatively firm underfoot, but it's still hard going. They pick over the scattered remnants with little enthusiasm, finding nothing intact enough to be useful. Eventually, they come across the transmitter, but it's a twisted, broken mess – even jawas wouldn't bother with it.  
  
Hux stops, looking back towards the remains of the shuttle. “This was sabotage, not an accident.” His voice is deceptively calm.  
  
Two unlikely things have happened to them here. Their ship jumped into hyperspace without a course plotted, without the hyperdrive even being _engaged_. And they landed somewhere. Probability-wise, an unplanned jump should have zipped them through a star or a planet and pulverised them – or caused a massive engine failure that destroyed the ship.  
  
_Both_ unlikely things could be accidents, but the odds are astronomically small. Hux is much more inclined to believe the jump was planned and surviving it was not. Someone tried to kill them, and might yet succeed, so the question is: who?  
  
Ren says nothing. He's already surmised who arranged this. Half a klick later, Hux has considered most of the possible culprits – including Snoke – and discarded them.  
  
He'd first assumed it must be the Resistance, that they'd infiltrated the Finalizer, or compromised one of the Order's flight technicians, but only senior officers knew in advance that the two of them would be on _that_ shuttle – they used a standard one, rather than Ren's personal craft. And it's unthinkable for _all_ the shuttles to have been infected with the same malfunction. Something that dramatic would be difficult to implement and hide on _one_ ship. On more, it would definitely have been noticed.  
  
It's possible that an officer could be working for the Resistance, but on balance, it’s more likely that they’d be working _against_ Hux. So, one of his rivals, then? Someone eager to oust him? There are plenty of those, but he’s confident that none of them would be stupid enough to attack Ren _as well_. Ren is valuable, if volatile. And he belongs to _Snoke_ , not the First Order – Snoke won't tolerate them breaking his things.  
  
That brings him to the Supreme Leader himself. It's perfectly possible that Snoke could have changed his mind and decided to discard Hux, in the wake of Starkiller. It's even possible that he might bother making it look like an accident, but again, it makes no sense for _Ren_ to be dragged into it. He's far less replaceable than Hux.  
  
He's so preoccupied with the puzzle that he doesn't notice Ren spying on his thoughts. Ren smirks, confident Hux won't guess the real reason behind their predicament. He's incorrectly assumed the point of this stunt was to kill them, of course, but more subtly, his arrogance is leading him to think it's about _him_. He's so self-obsessed that he can't conceive of being purely incidental, little more than a prop for Ren's training.  
  
This particular section of Hoth is fairly flat, the snowplain stretching as far as the horizon in every direction except the one they're going. They were both in full uniform, luckily, which means boots, gloves, Hux's pretentious greatcoat and Ren's equally pretentious robe. But the garments aren't designed to withstand cold like Hoth's.  
  
Ren is sort of diverting the wind, keeping the stronger gusts off them, but when the blizzard catches up that will be a real test of this ability. Without the windchill, the cold hasn't bitten through their layers yet, but they're exposed, trudging along in the open – it's only a matter of time.  
  
Hux has tied a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, to help with inhaling icy air. For all that he's silently laughing at how ridiculous it looks, Ren does wish he still had his helmet. Snoke had insisted – and Hux had agreed – that Ren not wear it, for the mission they were on. It was just a routine meeting, to negotiate the supply of raw materials of some kind (he hadn't paid attention to _what_ , exactly).  
  
The local population was relatively pro-First Order, or at least cowed after the destruction of the Hosnian system. There had been no need for intimidation, hence sending just Ren, unmasked, with Hux, rather than a full contingent of stormtroopers.

The mission had been successful, judging by the fact that Hux had barely needled him at all, as he flew them back to the Finalizer.  
  
And then the alarm had gone off.  
  
Ren scowls, pulling part of his cowl up over his face. He doesn't want to be aware of Hux, but it's surprisingly difficult to keep out of his head, when the man is the only distraction around. Every time Ren catches a stray thought, it's a complaint or a gripe – Hux isn't as fit or strong as Ren is, and he's struggling to keep up. Sensibly, Hux leaves these unvoiced, because whining about their current situation won't change it, but _will_ risk annoying Ren.  
  
And Ren _is_ in a foul mood. Maybe it's the snow. It reminds him of Starkiller Base, of the last time everything went this wrong. It reminds him of Han, of Rey. It reminds him of _Hux_ , appearing like a scornful angel to rescue his bloodied, defeated body. He'd wanted to kill the man for witnessing the worst pinnacle of his indignity.  
  
It's nearly sunset by the time they reach the bluffs, rising in a straight line above them, more like a wall than an accident of geography. Behind them, the plain is being swallowed by the oncoming blizzard, and the gathering clouds mean the light is fading very quickly. They need to find somewhere to take shelter.  
  
Hux looks up at the sky, gauging how fast the storm is moving. “Thirty minutes?”

Ren nods. Thirty minutes until it reaches them. Without further discussion, they split up, searching for a cave big enough to accommodate them. Ren feels Hux shiver, as he leaves the protective bubble, the wind knifing at him. He focuses on the steep rock and snow, eyes peeled for creases that might hide the mouth of a cave. The Force shows him the hollows and holes within the cliff, but it's vague, not detailed enough to locate a way in. If there were something alive hiding here, he could aim for that, but the wall is blank.  
  
After maybe twenty minutes' fruitless searching, he hears a faint 'pew' sound – a blaster. Hux's. He peers in the direction the other man went, and in the dimness, there's a single light waving. He remembers the makeshift flashlight Hux had fashioned, and heads back towards him, steps clumsy with fatigue. The blizzard has reached the cliffs by the time he's closed the distance, and his shield technique _is_ much more difficult to maintain, when the wind is buffeting him from all sides.  
  
He spots the narrow split in the rock, senses more then sees Hux inside, and squeezes himself through. The cave widens after a few steps, into a chamber decorated with icicles. In the light of the single, pale lamp, they throw shadows like jagged teeth. Hux will have checked, but he still sends his awareness all the way to the back of the cave, making _very_ sure it's uninhabited.  
  
It's not warm, not by a long way, but in contrast to the driving wind and snow outside, it's heavenly. There's even a pleasant, oddly-familiar scent in the air—  
  
Ren's eyes snap to Hux, sitting hunched up on the hem of his coat, arms around his knees. He's taken his gloves off, rubbing his hands together, trying to force warmth back into them. He glances up, and whatever expression Ren's face has contorted into is enough to make him blanch.  
  
“You're an omega.”

“...Yes?” Hux clearly didn't expect this to be a surprise, but Ren is reeling like he's taken a punch to the face. The scent teleports him back to fighting Rey, to getting caught up in that scent, _her_ scent. For a moment Ren sees red, and his fingers twitch for his lightsaber.  
  
“Ren!” croaks Hux, trying to snap him out of it. “What's going on?”

“You're an omega,” he says again.

“Stars, Ren – yes, I'm an omega. My scent blocker is wearing off, that's all. I use a soap-based one – the long-term blockers we give stormtroopers can have unpleasant side-effects. The downside is I have to reapply it regularly.” It's now been a full day since the last time they were aboard the Finalizer, Ren realises.  
  
Hux is frowning at him. “Wait. You didn't know?”

“Of course I didn't know!”

“It's not a secret,” he says, a bit defensive. “It's in my personnel file.” As if Ren's ever bothered to look at a personnel file.

“You don't _want_ people to know,” he accuses. The First Order doesn't require alpha and omega officers to use scent blockers, that's a choice Hux has made.

“I don't go out of my way to tell people,” Hux corrects him. “But you're always—” Hux waves a hand vaguely around his head. “I assumed you knew!”  
  
Ren grits his teeth, but it's frustration aimed more at himself than Hux. He'd taken the 'nothing' scent he got from Hux to mean he was a beta, and not considered it further. Male omegas are rare, same as female alphas, and it's no secret that the First Order prefers alphas or betas for their officers. And besides, Hux doesn't _act_ like an omega.  
  
He's never seen Hux use any of his omega traits, and he's the polar opposite of caring or gentle or submissive, or any of the stereotypes. Not that Ren has a whole lot of experience with omegas… Ben never had many peers, growing up, and he left to begin his largely solitary training under Snoke shortly before he'd presented as an alpha.  
  
Maybe he _would_ have figured it out if he'd cared to observe Hux's thoughts more closely, but overall, there was no reason for him to guess the man was an omega.  
  
When Ren doesn't say anything, Hux's defiant expression starts to slip. “Is this a problem for you?”

“Why do you keep it hidden?” he says, instead of answering.

Hux opens his mouth to insist it's not _hidden_ , but reconsiders. “People make assumptions about omegas, none of which are useful to me, in my position.” He says this in a matter-of-fact tone, and while it's certainly true, Ren can pick up a buzz of simmering emotion underneath.  
  
“It's exhausting to have to fight those assumptions every day,” Hux adds. Also true, but still not the whole story. This isn't just about stereotypes, for Hux.  
  
Rather than interrogate him further, Ren lets the subject drop. Now he's calmed down, he can appreciate that despite the similarities, Hux's scent _is_ different to Rey's. It's slowly permeating the cave, present but not suffocating. It's… soft. Far softer than the man himself.  
  
He’s abruptly glad that his rut is more than a month away, and for the first time, wonders what _he_ smells like, to Hux. He skims Hux's mind, but that particular information isn't at the surface right now, and it's not worth digging out.  
  
“Ren, could you stop looking at me like you're planning to carve me up and eat me?” Hux snaps.

“Oh, you're a mindreader too, now?”

Hux glares back at him for a long moment, lips tight. “Well, just make it quick,” he mutters. Ren checks – Hux does think that's a genuine possibility. Maybe not _now_ , but once they run out of food. He wants to laugh, but just the mention of eating reminds him they haven't had any food or water for hours.  
  
Ren is practiced at dealing with deprivation. Snoke's training often required him to ration a tiny amount of fuel for days or weeks, suppressing his body's needs and complaints. But Hux is used to, if not luxury, then at least comfort.  
  
Ren doesn't need to be in his head to tell how _un_ comfortable Hux is right now – he's shivering, his teeth would be chattering if he hadn't clamped his mouth shut. His lips are dry and chapped, and his face is a little burnt from the snow-glare, where the handkerchief didn't protect him. There are ice crystals in his pale eyebrows.  
  
Ren ignores all of this. Hux can sort himself out. He's trying to remember whether the water on Hoth is drinkable. He's pretty sure it is – or it would be, if it weren't always ice or snow. Hux would know. Not that he'd stoop to _asking_ him...  
  
Ren crouches by the cave entrance, where drifts of snow have built up, and scoops up a double handful. Very carefully, he channels the Force to warm it, feeling the texture change as it melts, a little dripping through his fingers.

Hux is watching him with naked astonishment. He's realised what Ren's doing, and he's practically broadcasting that yes, Hoth's water is safe for humans. Ren allows himself a private grin, tipping the water down his throat, already reaching for more. The first one was a little hot – close to scalding, actually – but he didn't instantly evaporate it, so that's something. He reins in his power even more, for the next handful.  
  
He's not making slurping noises to annoy Hux, but it's a welcome side effect. Hux is thirsty. Really thirsty. He's not above asking Ren for help, that's only practical, but the sticking point is: they have no receptacles. He'd have to drink straight from Ren's cupped hands, and the mental image of this is excruciating. Too intimate. Too helpless and trusting for Hux to even contemplate.

“You want some?” asks Ren, casually.

“No,” comes the curt, immediate reply. Ren shrugs, heating another handful of water. He offered. Hux can't claim he didn't.  
  
He has to hide his amusement at the route Hux's thoughts take, trying to think of anything that avoids contact between his lips and Ren's fingers. He's wondering about drinking out of his _boot_. Which is barely less embarrassing, and a good bit grosser. But he's also aware that a damp boot would invite frostbite. Would that be better than dehydration, in their present circumstances?  
  
Frustrated, he pats down his greatcoat, pulling things out of the pockets. He finds one of the packets of dried meat, an idea sparking. Tearing it open as neatly as he can, with numb fingers, he tips the contents out, scooping snow into the empty packet, and holds it out towards Ren. For a moment, Ren frowns, pretending he has no clue why Hux would be offering him a packet of snow.

Hux's temper boils over. “Quit acting petty,” he growls.  
  
Ren sniggers, but he does take the makeshift cup between his hands, sending warmth into it. When the snow has melted, he passes it carefully back to Hux, who swallows the liquid in one go, fighting down the twin pains in his throat, from thirst and from Ren choking him earlier. He's already scooping more snow.

“You owe me,” says Ren, heating the next one.

“Stick it on my tab.” Ren can't parse what he means, is about to read his mind, when Hux carries on. “You saved me, in the crash, right? There's no other way I could have survived that impact.”  
  
Mutely, Ren nods.  
  
“I'm guessing it was some kind of shield… thing. Like whatever you're doing now, to keep the wind out.” So he noticed. Ren semi-sealed up the entrance to the cave, so that their body heat would start to warm it up.

“Good guess.”  
  
Hux's smile is very thin. He's impressed, both by what Ren can do, and that he's choosing to help Hux. But he's also spitefully thinking that none of Ren's stupid powers have so far solved their main problem. Before Ren can get defensive, Hux chucks a strip of meat at him.  
  
“In total,” says Hux, chewing, “we've got eight of these, and six flatbreads. That'll last us maybe two days. More if we stay put here and conserve energy, but—”

“We can't stay. If we stay, we don't find anything better.”

“…Yes.” Hux stops himself snapping that he was just about to say that when Ren interrupted.  
  
Probability wise, they're screwed either way. But the numbers are marginally less low if they keep moving. And besides, whatever extra days of life they could scrape, by hiding in this cave, would be counteracted by them annoying each other to death.  
  
“We can't move in this blizzard, anyway,” Hux carries on. “Any idea when it will blow past?” Ren closes his eyes briefly, focusing on the howling storm above them.

“A few hours. Six at most.”

Hux accepts this without question, aware that if Ren _couldn't_ tell, he'd just snap at Hux for expecting him to. Lying would be counterproductive right now.  
  
“That might be close enough to dawn that we can leave straight after – there should be enough light, if the sky is clear.” The more ground they can cover, the better their pitiful chances.  
  
Ren gets himself another few handfuls of water to wash down the salt from the preserved meat, ignoring Hux's considering gaze.

“Could you warm _me_ up like that?” Hux doesn't want to ask, knows it sounds like a plea.

Ren debates saying he can, to see if the General _will_ get over himself and manage to ask nicely. But instead he smirks. “Only if you want to get burned or boiled.”

Hux's face twists. “Because you can't control it properly, or because you dislike me that much?”

“Both,” he says. That's actually a fairly perceptive comment, for someone who isn't Force-sensitive. But then, Hux knows a lot about thermodynamics, what with the superweapons and all.  
  
Heating something discrete and inanimate is simple enough – he can channel the Force-energy straight in. But with living things, all the cells and structures have different tolerances. He could easily push too hard and damage them.  
  
Hux sighs, easing his stiff body up and stretching, rolling his shoulders and neck. The joints are tight from being hunched up against the cold, and the series of cracks and snaps they make is deeply unappealing.

Ren glares at him when he walks over. “What are you doing?”

Hux ignores the frosty tone, arranging himself so he's sitting with his back against Ren's. “Getting some rest, maybe some sleep if I'm lucky.”  
  
He's too close, impudently close – Ren might shove him into the cave wall just on instinct.  
  
“We could spoon, if you prefer,” says Hux acidly, sensing the tension in Ren's frame.  
  
He spreads his coat over him like a blanket, and leans into Ren, trying to relax. Smug bastard. This is a perfectly sensible way to conserve body heat, and not having a good reason to object irritates Ren no end. Hux's lovely scent is stronger as well as closer now, and he feels… _trapped_ by it.  
  
Ren grits his teeth, looking up at the cave's ceiling. It can't be a coincidence that Rey is an omega and so is Hux. Snoke must mean for him to build up some kind of tolerance or resistance– he winces when he thinks that word.  
  
Hux disconnects the lamp from the battery pack without checking whether Ren still needs the light. He doesn't, anyway. All Hux can see, once his eyes have adjusted, is the faint difference in the darkness of the cave and the darkness outside. He feels like a small burrowing creature trapped in its hole.  
  
Questions echo in Hux’s head as they do Ren’s – _is there anything to find, out there? Is there anything that will help them survive?_ Now he's taken the raw, nagging edge off his hunger and thirst, Hux is starting to think more strategically. Ren doesn't bother trying to discern _what_ he's thinking about, but he's aware that his mind is racing.  
  
“The only man-made structure I've ever heard of, on Hoth,” Hux begins, after a long silence, “is a former rebel encampment, Echo Base.”  
  
Ah, that would be why Hux knows so much about a useless planet, like whether the water is drinkable, or how long the day-night cycle is – he must have studied Hoth as part of Imperial history.  
  
“I remember where it is, the coordinates, but I don't know where _we_ are.”

There's another long silence. Ren prays Hux isn't about to say what he suspects he'll say, but he does.  
  
“Could you find it? I don't know if it makes a difference, for Force stuff, but your family were there, in the battle—”

His mouth shuts with an audible click.

“They're _not_ my family,” says Ren, a crushing roar of darkness bleeding into his words.  
  
Hux stays very still, not even shivering, breath whistling through his nose. His feedback is nothing but fear – no surprise or shock. He'd anticipated Ren might react like this, but he pushed it anyway.  
  
“You really thought that wouldn't have occurred to me? Ben grew up hearing bedtime stories of that battle, of course I looked for the kriffing base.”

It's a lie. Sort of. He'd searched for it, but as _himself_ , refusing to use his connection to someone else's past. Snoke had told him, continued to tell him, right up until he killed Han Solo, that discarding Ben was the path to strength.

There's a flash of pain from Hux, and he realises he's about to crush the man's jaw. Trying to ground himself in the cold, dark present of the cave, he makes himself release Hux. A relieved grunt comes from behind him, and Hux massages his chin gingerly. No apology is forthcoming, to Ren's irritation.  
  
Hux ducks his head, hiding as much as possible under the coat. He's sulking. Which suits Ren fine, if it means he'll be quiet. He considers giving Hux a mental nudge towards sleep, just to get rid of his whirring thoughts, but that's a little too considerate. They both sit there, bodies aching from the strain of today, as the cave gradually warms up.  
  
He pulls his robe around him, knees drawing up to his chest, the movement prodding a drowsy Hux back to wakefulness. A stray thought catches his attention – Hux _does_ like his scent, despite everything. Moving his robe must have wafted it towards him. Right now, in their present situation, he finds it reassuring, purely because Ren's an alpha and Hux is an omega. And – oh, he _hates_ that, resents his biology for finding comfort in someone who thwarts and usurps and humiliates him at every opportunity.  
  
Ren leaves Hux to his unflattering thoughts, trying to calm and centre his own mind. He spends as much time meditating as sleeping, now. Has done for years. It's calming, restful – a kind of quiet his brain doesn't allow in sleep. As he focuses, his breath and heartbeat slow, becoming glacial.  
  
Hux may be right, damn him. He needs to tap in to Ben somehow, to that stupid, scared, trusting boy. He'd thought part of this training was to avoid the call of the light, of his former self's memories, but perhaps he needs to prove he can use them without succumbing.  
  
He tries to remember Leia telling Ben – _him_ , he forces himself to think – about Hoth, about Han dragging her out of the base at the last second, about Luke blowing up an AT-AT… He shivers, but not from the cold – he can almost hear her voice. It's alarmingly easy to slide back into Ben, to feel love and awe for these people, instead of hate. Bile rises up his throat, and he forces it down, recentering himself.  
  
Like he did by the shuttle, he lets his – _Ben's_ – awareness expand out beyond the cave, over the frozen landscape. He's looking for… warmth. Attachments between family, friends, lovers, they all have the same tenuous warmth, in the Force. He remembers, because Ben felt it, for a while.  
  
There _is_ something – it's like an imprint of his family on Hoth. Faint, because of time, but… earnest. Luke hadn't learned to conceal his presence, or even realised he should, by then. Sudden relief almost breaks Ren's trance, and he has to school his mind back to calm, trying to cement the location.  
  
It has to be Echo Base – there's nothing else here – but all he's getting, through the Force, is a vague sense of direction, calling him to go north-east. It's so fragile, so weak that he can't determine how far. But he has a path, now.  
  
He pulls back into his body, finding it chilled and shaky. He wants to slam closed every connection to Ben, but he can't afford to lose that faint guiding pull, not after the effort it took to find it.  
  
When he opens his eyes, Hux is standing over him, ghoulishly uplit by the lamp. He doesn't quite manage to wipe the concern off his face before Ren notices.

“You're back,” he comments, offering him a flatbread. Ren ignores it to lever himself up, shaking his limbs and rubbing his ass where it's gone numb.  
  
There's a pale sliver of light coming from the cave mouth, so it's dawn, or nearly. It sounds quiet, out there. His grasp of time passing must have vanished completely, subsumed by the focus required for finding the base.  
  
He squeezes through the mouth of the cave, Hux following. The fresh snow is powdery underfoot – today will be harder going than yesterday, most likely. He scoops up a double handful, melting it and gulping it down with something approaching elation. He's always proud when he attempts something new with the Force, and finds his power and control equal to it – it's a trait he and Ben share.  
  
“You're annoyingly cheerful.”

He glares at Hux, taking in his dishevelled, finger-combed hair, the bags under his eyes, the tightness in his posture. Hux always paces the Finalizer like he's got a stick rammed up his ass, but this goes beyond the usual. Clearly, he didn't sleep much. Ren can't find it in himself to feel sympathy.  
  
Hux fills his trusty jerky packet with snow and holds it out to Ren, along with the flatbread. This time Ren accepts the dry, crumbling biscuit, shoving the whole thing in his mouth and crunching obnoxiously as he warms the snow.  
  
Relief sweeps through him as he orients himself, realising they they don't have to retrace their steps – they were heading in broadly the right direction yesterday. He can well imagine Hux's joyless laughter if he'd had to admit he found something that he missed. But pressing onwards means…  
  
“We need to scale this thing,” he says, once he's swallowed, nodding to the cliff.  
  
Hux looks up, resignation pinching his face. He doesn't object. It's weird for the General not to be contradicting or finding fault with his every decision, but he knows sticking with Ren is his best chance at surviving this. He's restraining a number of sharp questions about why climbing an icy death-trap of a wall is necessary, and what makes that direction better than any other. Ren resolves not to tell him, to just walk and dare him to ask.  
  
The cliff actually has plenty of hand and footholds, once Ren spots a decent route up, but it's still slippery. Hux loses his footing a few times, adrenaline spiking as he scrabbles to regain purchase without looking at the yawning drop below them. Ren was prepared to grab him with the Force, but luckily it's not necessary.  
  
Hux is winded, when he drags himself over the top, and collapses on his back, despite the snow getting down his collar. Ren stares at his shivering figure, lip curling in distaste.  
  
“Pathetic.”

Hux's eyes snap open and he snarls at him. “ _You_ try climbing it without your magic powers, see how much harder it is.” Perceptive bastard. Ren _had_ been using the Force to keep his hands and feet from slipping.  
  
He doesn't bother to respond, even though that makes it Hux's victory – he just turns and stalks off. A few paces later, he hears Hux drag himself upright, brushing the snow off his coat before it melts.  
  
The sky is clouded today, which is good for them, as it reduces the snow glare, but the wind is sharper, dragging flurries of snow with it. Ren is spending most of his concentration on maintaining a sort of wedge-shaped barrier, to divert the worst of the wind around them, and stop it pressing them back or knifing through their clothes. The other part of his brain is keeping them on course, and trying to figure out how far this trek is. He still can't get a sense of it.  
  
This part of Hoth truly is featureless. The ground rises and falls gently, a monotony broken only by the occasional spike of rock, leeward side grey-black and stark against the whiteness. There are foothills rolling into mountains on their left, hazy with distance.  
  
Nothing moves except them.  
  
Ren hadn't noticed Hux falling further and further behind, as the hours dragged on, until the crunch of footsteps following him ceases completely.

“Ren,” calls Hux, over the wind. When he turns, Hux has his blaster levelled at him. “We need to split up.”

“What?” He resists the urge to knock the thing out of Hux's hand.

“New plan. We split up. We can cover more ground, maybe one of us will find some trace of civilisation.” That makes absolutely no sense. He thought Hux agreed that sticking together was the better idea.  
  
He marches back towards Hux, ready to shake some sense into him, but Hux makes a sudden noise, something between a whimper and a yelp. It's such an abject, helpless sound that it freezes him in place, just for a moment. His mind is catapulted back to Starkiller Base, to Rey, to that same, awful sound, the one that made him hesitate long enough for her to slice his face open. Omegas can do that, it's like a last ditch appeal to an alpha's protective instincts, a plea that says 'don't hurt me'.  
  
“Not a step closer,” Hux orders. His voice is hollow.  
  
Finally, it dawns on Ren why Hux has been lagging behind. Obviously he's weak and tired, and it's easier to tread in someone else's footprints, but… he was also keeping himself downwind of Ren. Making sure his heightening scent didn't reach him…

“You're going into heat,” he says, dumbly. “You were on heat suppressors. They're wearing off almost as fast as the scent blocker.”

Hux nods. “So it seems.”  
  
Something about that rings odd to Ren – a healthy omega wouldn't go into heat after less than two days off suppressor pills... Unless they hadn't _had_ a heat in a long time…  
  
He groans, because isn't that just like Hux? Convinced he's too important to take time off, even for biological necessities.  
  
“How long?” he demands, temper rising. “How long since your last heat?”

“I don't fucking remember. Maybe three years.”  
  
The medically recommended _minimum_ is one per year. Even the stormtroopers get two – he’s overheard Phasma complaining about the logistics of it.

“What were you thinking, neglecting it for that long!?”

“Well, excuse me for being too busy to waste three days masturbating every quarter! Not all of us have that luxury.” His eyes are flashing daggers, but he looks so small and miserable, against the vast white of Hoth.

“Kriffing hell, Hux – this will kill you, if you don't have someone to serve you. Your brain will fry itself.”

“I _know_ , Ren,” yells Hux.

“Then ask me! Are you really so proud you'll die before accepting my help?”

“You can't help me.”

“I can. I'm an alpha.” He takes another step forward, and Hux blasts the snow at his feet, making him stop.

“This is why _I'm_ in charge of strategy, you clod,” Hux groans. “Look around you. We have no shelter, no food, and it's snowing. If you get any closer, we will both be trapped here by my stupid biology. We'll die of exposure from fucking in a blizzard and it will be the least noble death in recorded history. I refuse, Ren. I will _not_ go out that way.”

It's a good speech, but Ren isn't persuaded. “So according to you, master strategist, our only options are 'split up and probably both die', or 'stay together and _definitely_ both die'.”

“Exactly. I will take probable death over definite death every time.”

“You didn't think of anything else?”

“Plenty of stuff could _happen_ , Ren, miraculous or disastrous. But splitting up is the only thing we can _do_ to improve our chances.”  
  
He means _Ren's_ chances. The idea of Hux walking any distance is laughable – omegas are basically incapacitated by their heat.  
  
“Hux, I located Echo Base,” he finally admits.

Hux closes his eyes, tears freezing at the corners. “I know. I guessed you'd found something – we're going a slightly different direction from yesterday. I held on as long as I could, but I've got maybe fifteen minutes until my heat hits full force, and we aren't reaching it by then, are we?”  
  
Ren says nothing. Echo Base could be several hours or days travel, but it's definitely not minutes.  
  
Something in him can't accept losing Hux, not now, not to his own past stupidity, not when some kind of salvation is in reach. He won't let Hux give up like this. He's supposed to keep him alive – it's part of the test, it must be.  
  
Ren raises a hand. “You're going to come with me,” he says, gesturing. The command doesn't take – it's like it slides off Hux, finding no purchase.

“I'm not, Ren.”  
  
Shit. Was Hux expecting him to do that?  
  
Foolishly, Ren reaches directly for his mind, finding it a whirling ball of need. Hux is desperately trying to ignore it, suppress it, to make Ren get far enough away that he can't beg him for help. His body is screaming at him to move closer to the alpha, to the source of the beautiful scent fluttering around him.

He's trying to save Ren. Hux is completely certain that Ren will be overtaken by his scent, if he catches it. That's what's giving him the strength to push Ren away, despite the urges of his heat, despite Ren's Force-command.  
  
“I'm not leaving you, Ren says.

Hux snarls at him. “You can't even let me die with a little dignity, can you?”  
  
Then his eyes widen and he raises the blaster, and it's lucky Ren doesn't react in time to block it, because the bolt skims over his shoulder, hitting the wampa that had snuck up behind him. Ren is already whirling round, lightsaber crackling as the creature bellows. He should have sensed it. He was distracted by Hux, but there isn't time to berate himself because a blaster bolt won't do more than piss it off.  
  
As the huge creature lunges for him, he brings the saber up, lopping an arm off, and then ducks into a sweep that severs the tendons in one leg. He jumps back as it stumbles, saber drawing a graceful arc that slices cleanly through its neck. Blood spurts onto the snow, dark red, as its heart beats a few final times.  
  
He catches a soft moan from Hux, and realises the man's collapsed to his knees. Likely the danger made him lose his iron grip on himself. Ren makes a snap decision, stretching his hand out again. Hux barely has time to flinch before he knocks him out. The flush of victory makes it trivial to levitate his body, shielding it from the snow, but he doesn't risk bringing it any closer until he's finalised his sketchy plan.  
  
The wampa head stares up at him with blank eyes. One of the Hoth stories Han used to tell – his favourite one, actually – was about stuffing Luke inside a tauntaun carcass to keep him warm. Ren glances at Hux. He'd hate this idea. Perfect.  
  
He works quickly, taking off the wampa's remaining limbs, and opening the torso, carefully. Ignoring the smell, he pulls the organs and other innards out, creating a cavity that should be large enough for a man to curl up in. He takes a moment to centre himself, drawing a long breath through his mouth.  
  
Snoke's training taught him to control his breathing like his hunger and thirst, as a bodily function that can be suppressed. He's not sure if he can suppress his alpha instincts as well, and frankly, now isn't the time to test it, but he's betting that if he can avoid breathing in Hux's scent, that'll be enough to let him get them both to safety.  
  
He calls the floating body to him, and eases Hux into the wampa in an awkward foetal position. His clothes will be ruined, especially the coat he's so proud of, Ren thinks, a bit gleeful. If they're lucky, the awful smell should actually help disguise Hux's scent, give him enough clarity to focus.  
  
He wipes his gloved hands in the snow, not that it removes much of the viscera. Okay. Phase one complete. He looks ahead, at the unknown distance between them and Echo Base. Phase two is going to suck.  
  
* * *  
  
This might be the toughest continuous use of the Force he's ever attempted. He's bounding through the snow in long leaps, parting the wind before him, and tugging a floating, limbless wampa corpse behind. If any sentient being were to witness this absurd sight, he'd have to kill them.  
  
He's not even remotely cold anymore – the exertion, both physical and mental, is making him sweat. He's going flat out. There's no point conserving his strength – he's gambling that he can reach the base before it gives out. If he's wrong, they will both perish.  
  
He forces himself not to keep checking on Hux. Even asleep, his mind is becoming a whirlpool of need that threatens to suck Ren in. He knows the biological basics of omegas – and heats – but only academically. Still, his lack of experience doesn’t matter _now_ – when (he deliberately thinks 'when' rather than 'if') they get to Echo Base, they can figure out everything else.

Two hours later, he's flagging. But he's closer. The weird pull, telling him which direction, is getting stronger. He grits his teeth, sending more power to his legs, making his strides longer, frantically eating up the distance.  
  
He senses something, when he's about two klicks away from the main structure, stuttering to a halt. Right here, under his feet, is where Luke took down an Imperial Walker, single-handed. There's nothing to see anymore – thirty years of Hoth's blizzards have taken care of that – but Luke Skywalker was here. The itch in his mind says so.  
  
Any visual sign of the base has also been obliterated by snow. He knows he's right on top of it, he can feel the echoes of Ben's family beneath him. He lets the rest of his Force burdens drop, ignoring the wind as it claws at him, and focuses all his effort on the structure below. He needs to find a way in.  
  
Ah! Below them, there's a hollow chamber – wide, circular, big enough to be a hangar? The cover is shut tight, buried under a deep layer of snow. If he can just… of course the cover's controls aren't working, the Empire destroyed the generators. He growls in frustration, channeling his anger to wrench the panels apart, using the Force like a blunt instrument. There's a creak of elderly metal, as the hangar doors are pushed relentlessly back into their housing.  
  
The white around him shifts, and Ren realises he's miscalculated at the exact moment a mini avalanche tumbles them straight down into the hangar. He gasps, working his way to the surface and shaking snow out of his face, instinctively checking if Hux is okay.  
  
His probe meets so much howling, blinding pain that he recoils. He thinks for a moment Hux was injured, but no, the snow made it quite a gentle fall – he's still unconscious-slash-asleep, still inside the now-cold wampa. It's his heat… His body is screaming for an alpha, and Ren is wading through the snow towards him before he gets a grip on himself. He cuts off mental contact with Hux, shaken.  
  
Phase two: Reach Echo Base, is complete. He looks around the snow-filled hangar, fighting down his own exhaustion. Come on. Think. What does Hux need? _Me_ , his brain supplies immediately. He ignores it. Food, water, and somewhere warm and comfortable-ish to rest. Even in this half blown up, abandoned structure, he can provide that. He _can_.  
  
It's difficult to leave Hux, but he makes himself head for one of the tunnels branching off the hangar. In a pile of discarded equipment, he spots some kind of lamp, and scoops it up, pleased when it flickers on. Echo Base is mainly underground, carved into the snow and ice itself, and without the lights, it's very, very dark. Ren can use the Force to 'see', instead of his eyes – it was one of the first things Uncle Luke taught him – but having some light is always easier.  
  
He follows the tunnel with the largest number of cables looping from the ceiling, and walks straight into the command centre. He almost drops the lamp, because for a moment the shattered screens are lit up, showing readouts and warnings. He blinks, and the image is gone. _Mom_ , he thinks, before his mind reframes: Leia. She was here, directing the evacuation.  
  
The base isn't huge, and he finds the canteen just by following one of the wider tunnels. It's been ransacked, but the stormtroopers weren't after supplies, they were after stragglers they could capture, or information about the rebels' other hideouts. One of the storage crates contains ration bars and some other vacuum-packed stuff he can't identify, and he scoops an indiscriminate handful of them into his robe. Food: check.  
  
He tries the taps, but nothing comes out – whatever kept the water supply liquid no doubt relied on the generators, so of course it's not working. He grabs a couple of metal jugs, adding them to his bundle. He can keep melting snow if it comes to it.  
  
Where would the sleeping quarters be? He picks a tunnel, gets about ten paces down it before finding it blocked by snow where the wall and ceiling have collapsed. He tries another route, ignoring the echo of Han jogging alongside him. Dust motes that have been hanging in still air for decades swirl and eddy as he rushes along. At least the air smells okay, if stale from the lack of ventilation.  
  
The first few bunk chambers he finds are packed with snow – not much use. Then the med bay, where he can practically see Luke recovering from his own ordeal with a wampa. He swears Luke's eyes meet his, across time and reality and common sense. Ren turns away. He can't bring Hux there.  
  
The next bunk room is whole, at least – only one of the packed-snow walls has crumbled, and the ceiling isn't in immediate danger of collapsing. There're eight camp beds, three of them buried, but the rest usable, and plenty of blankets amongst the clutter and debris. This will do. It will have to. He dumps the food out of his robe, hangs the lamp on a peg sunk into the wall, and starts back towards the hangar.  
  
Something makes him pause, looking the other way down the corridor. Refreshers? He isn't sure why, but he takes a few paces further and finds a chamber with sinks and toilet cubicles and sonic showers.  
  
And in a corner, a durasteel… bathtub? He is unable to fathom why the Rebellion would have a luxury like a _bathtub_ on their emergency base, until he realises it's a modified piece of ship hull. Someone made it into a bathtub, though it's barely big enough for a human adult. Ren grins, too wide, and winces as his chapped lips split.  
  
He uses the Force to lift the bathtub, bringing it with him like a hoverdroid, careful not to smash it into the walls. He finds one of the cave-ins and quickly piles the tub full of snow, before pulling it back to the chamber he's now designated as 'Hux's nest'. He shoves the beds aside and sets it down, pressing his palms to the side of the tub. The warming energy comes less easily now – an obvious marker of how exhausted he is – but he perseveres, and within a few minutes, the snow has melted into tepid water.  
  
He dunks one of the jugs he grabbed from the kitchen, gulping water down like nectar, and then refills both, setting them by the cleanest-looking bed. Now, he thinks, rolling his shoulders, he just needs to get Hux here.  
  
As he approaches the hangar, he catches a noise, a growl that sounds so much like a wookie that Ren grits his teeth. It's _not_ Chewie. If anything, it's Hux, struggling against his heat and the Force-sleep.  
  
The hangar is full of flying snowflakes, the wind dragging them into a flurry. Ren takes a few deep breaths, and then approaches the wampa corpse. It's cold. Not frozen yet, but there's no body heat left in it. He eases Hux out, wincing at the bloody slime covering him, and strips his coat off. The thing is ruined, no amount of laundering will save it, but _it_ saved Hux from the worst of the wampa innards.  
  
He unties the handkerchief from Hux's face, realising with alarm that his lips are blue, and clamps down on the instinct to check him with the Force – he can see he's breathing, see the flutter of pulse in his neck, that's enough. Hoisting the man into his arms, trying not to notice how solid he feels, Ren heads back towards the bunk chamber.  
  
He hasn't taken a breath since he extracted Hux, and having to concentrate on rationing his oxygen is a useful distraction. It's impressive that he manages not to whack Hux's head or feet on anything as he navigates the tunnels, given that his strength is nearly depleted and his balance is… lacking.  
  
When they finally reach the nest, he lays Hux down on the plywood floor, pulling his uniform jacket, boots and trousers off as briskly as possible, leaving him in just his undershirt and– Fuck. He's hard inside his underwear, the material tenting obscenely. Ren averts his eyes, _really_ not needing thoughts about Hux's little cock to add to the heat haze seeping into him.

Unceremoniously, he picks Hux up with the Force, not willing to risk physical contact again, and settles him into the bath, hooking his arms over the side, so he won't slip down. As the comparatively warm water laps over him, Hux makes a soft, grateful little sound, and Ren freezes, heart stopping in his chest.  
  
He needs to get out of there. Now. Right now, before his alpha instincts fully take over.  
  
He bolts for the door, slamming it closed behind him, and crouching into a ball in the tunnel, trying to keep hold of himself. He's provided everything Hux needs, he thinks, trying and failing to convince himself.  
  
With a bit of hindsight, he can recognise that most of what he's done today has been for Hux the omega, not Hux the General. He still believes that Snoke intends this whole ordeal to teach him about omegas, to make sure he isn't caught off guard by the scavenger girl again. But… Hux's heat is a temptation unlike anything he's ever faced. Which will help him prepare better? Resisting it or… _assisting_ with it?  
  
Resisting will be torture, for him and for Hux, but he would undoubtedly emerge stronger for it. A traitorous voice adds that Hux might not emerge at all, and he squashes it down.  
  
Assisting Hux, _serving_ him, is infinitely more appealing – and that makes Ren wary. Easy paths don't lead anywhere worthwhile. But… even if he divorces himself from the clamouring of his alpha side, serving Hux could still be a useful experience – educational.  
  
Snoke is not going to enlighten him. He rarely tells his apprentice the purpose of his trials – part of the test is to figure it out. But Ren's drained, physically, mentally, and spiritually. He's not sure he could move so much as a mouse droid with the Force right now. His head thunks back against the wall, dislodging some snow that dusts his face.  
  
For now, he needs some distance between himself and the heat-stricken Hux, and he needs some fuel for his body. Each step towards the canteen is difficult, like his feet object to this destination and are trying to drag him another way. Specifically back to Hux. He finds a few more ration bars in a crate, ones that he missed in his cursory sweep, and sags onto a bench, feeling like lead.

He's still breathing through his mouth, he notices, not bothering to change this, and chews the bar with his mouth open, making the sort of noise Leia would have scolded him – _Ben_ – for. He refuses to look at the expiry date on the bar's packaging. These things are designed to last forever, like any military rations. Even if it's thirty years out of date, it probably won't kill him.  
  
When he feels some strength returning to his limbs, and some of the fog clearing from his head, he has a sort of epiphany. He can leave the decision up to Hux. The man knows his own body, _he_ can decide whether he wants Ren to serve him or not. Certainly he hadn't seemed wild about the prospect a few hours ago.  
  
He focuses, reaching carefully for Hux's mind, relieved to find the heat just simmering, rather than the rolling boil he'd glimpsed earlier. Hux should be reasonably lucid, if Ren wakes him now.  
  
He gets confusion, irritation and a kind of all-over, indiscriminate ache from Hux, as his consciousness comes back online. The man takes in the dim chamber, mind zipping through a number of realisations – he's in the rebel base, in his underclothes, in a _bath_ – and he has no recollection of how any of those things occurred, except it must be–

“Ren?” he calls, his first distinct thought. The man is nowhere in sight, and he _should_ be, Hux's body _demands_ him to be.

 _<_ _I'm outside_ > Ren sends, his tone reassuring, though he didn't intend it to be.

Hux relaxes minutely, slipping a little further into the water. “You brought me here.” It's not a question. Hux is just surprised – he didn't consider it possible.

 _<_ _Of course you didn't. Your childish insistence that the Force has no practical applications blinds you to its power._ _>_  
  
Hux can't hide his grudging acknowledgement that Ren is right, and it almost makes it worth all the effort, to score a point like that.

 _<_ _Why do I stink?_ _>_ he tries to think the question clearly, but he's not exactly practiced at communicating like this.

 _<_ _I put you in the wampa_.>

Revulsion sweeps through Hux, and he slumps fully under the water, scrubbing at his hair to dislodge the gore stuck in the strands. _< Considerate of you to_ _knock me out first._ _>_  
  
Ren wants to laugh, but a sudden surge of nauseating pain has Hux gritting his teeth and clinging to the side of the bath.  
  
“Fuck,” the man curses. His body is _not_ happy about riding out a wave without something inside him. Ren finds he's stood up, absolutely ready to be that something, and makes himself sit again.

 _<_ _Hux_ _>_ he tries to push the word through Hux's heat-addled brain. < _You need to choose. I can serve you, or I can keep you unconscious until it passes._ _>_  
  
He can hear all the omega parts of Hux's mind clamouring for option one, fiercely determined that Ren should already be inside him. But the top level, the one that thinks and schemes and plots, the one that's really _Hux_ – that one can't stand the idea. It's mortifying, needing his rival so desperately. He doesn't want to be that vulnerable, not in front of the smug, arrogant, irritating bastard.  
  
Before Ren can decide how he feels about this, Hux is overriding himself, deliberately setting aside how much he despises and distrusts Ren. With the logic he can scrape together, option one is still superior. The heat could last longer, without an alpha, and even if he's knocked out, it's uncertain whether his sanity will survive. Already his mind is being flayed apart – Ren can feel it fracturing. Normally Hux's mind is… mechanical. Ordered. Regulated. Right now it's a cluttered mess of splinters and shards.

Hux groans, fists clenched, giving up – and hating himself for it. “Save me again,” he whispers.  
  
Ren is already heading for the bunk chamber, long legs eating up the distance.  
  
He doesn't second-guess himself until he's opened the door, and in the dim light, he can see Hux, standing naked in the bath. His eyes – and the rest of him – are drawn immediately, inexorably to the ethereal figure, trembling with the effort of staying upright. Now the smell of wampa innards is mostly gone, Hux's scent permeates the whole room, and it's… divine. That's the only word that comes to mind.  
  
Hux carefully steps out of the bath, wincing at the cold. He's so weak he almost collapses, but Ren reaches out with the Force, steadying him before his knees buckle. Hux glances at him, surprised, and then his pupils blow wide as his body reminds him that Ren's an alpha. Ren calls a spare blanket over, dropping it around Hux's shoulders. He's not sure if it's to keep him warm or dry him off or just to cover his nakedness – all he knows is that it's what Hux _needs_ , right then.  
  
Neither of them move. Ren can sense that Hux is forcibly resisting the urge to throw himself at Ren, waiting to see what his rival will do. Ren doesn't trust himself to _do_ anything. He's overwhelmed. The moment he allows his body any movement, he will pull Hux to him and breathe him in and quite possibly never let him go.  
  
He hadn't realised. Hux smelled good before, but now it's mouthwatering, addicting, irresistible. His dick has never been this hard. It's galling to realise that Hux was absolutely right about the effect his heat-scent has. If Ren had caught it, out on the snow plains, he wouldn't have been able to pull away – they would likely be one conjoined frozen lump right now.  
  
The only saving grace here is that Hux seems to mistake his silence, his stillness for unnatural composure. “Come on,” he croaks, turning to a camp bed, and arranging himself on his hands and knees, the blanket draped over his back.  
  
Ren swallows. His skin is so pale, but his face is flushed red with embarrassment. He's thinking that if Ren turns to leave now, if this was some kind of joke or trick, he's going to beg him to stay – the words are already rising in his throat. His precious dignity doesn't stand a chance against his hormones. Ren wants to assure him it would be impossible to take even a step away from that alluring scent, but he's not giving Hux the satisfaction.  
  
Hux's head sags, when Ren still doesn't come closer, thinking Ren _is_ going to make him beg for it.  
  
“Ren–” he starts, looking at the thin mattress.

“What do you need, Hux?” Ren interrupts. “Tell me.” It's a genuine question, though Hux interprets it as mocking.

“I need you to fuck me.” He only just manages not to tag an 'asshole' on the end of that.  
  
Ren smirks, moving – _finally_ – and trying not to reveal that approaching Hux feels like being caught in a tractor beam.  
  
His gloves came off back when he was warming the bathwater, and when his bare palm touches the curve of Hux's ass, they both bite off a moan. Have they _ever_ touched, skin to skin? Maybe not. Probably not.  
  
Ren skims his hand lightly over the soft flesh, goosebumps rising in his wake. Fuck, Hux is very wet, slick dripping down his thighs. He wants to lick it up. Instead, he slides one finger into Hux's pink little hole, stunned by how easily he accepts it, how his hips rock back, asking for more.

“Stop messing with me,” Hux growls. Ren slides another finger in anyway, just checking that Hux really is loose enough to take his cock. There's almost no resistance as he scissors his fingers apart, another pulse of slick coating them.  
  
Unable to hold back a second longer, he kneels behind Hux, fumbling his pants open, dragging his cock out and positioning it at Hux's entrance. It's all he can do to push in slowly, his brain – and Hux's – urging him forward until he's balls deep, pressed flush against Hux, with slippery, fiery heat surrounding him, squeezing him. His cock should never be anywhere except inside Hux, that much is obvious.

The man below him exhales, breath choppy, pushing back, trying to get Ren to _move_. He can't help but obey, setting a hurried pace, hips snapping in frantic thrusts, burying himself again and again, as deep as he can get, blind with the sensation of Hux's ass rippling around him.  
  
He's biting his lip to keep from babbling about how amazing it feels. And Hux is doing the same – the only noises he’s making are little grunts that Ren pushes from him every time he bottoms out.  
  
Ren's too hot in his clothes, he should have removed them beforehand but there was no space for that, no space for anything except getting inside Hux. He's already close, his orgasm sliding down his spine and coiling in his balls and then he's spilling helplessly into Hux, teeth gritted, hands bruisingly tight on the man's hips, holding him still as his cock empties.  
  
Stars, that was way too fast. He hasn't lost it like that since his teenage self first discovered masturbating. He's waiting for Hux to laugh, to ask if that's it, if that's all the great and powerful Lord Ren can give him. But he doesn't.  
  
Hux has collapsed onto his elbows, head down on his forearms, panting with the relief of finally getting an alpha's come in him. The blanket slid off him at some point, and Ren runs his hands reverently along the pale lines of his back, hardly even aware he's doing it. Hux is so _warm_ , literal heat radiating from his skin.  
  
“More,” Hux whispers. “Again.”  
  
The raging need inside him is already rebuilding. Ren is suddenly worried that his body won't be able to keep up with Hux, even though alphas are designed for it. And then he realises he hasn't gone soft, his cock is still perfectly stiff, begging to be used again, to sate the omega spasming around him. He releases Hux long enough to drag his tunic over his head, hearing a seam rip in his haste, and drops it to the floor.

This time he takes it slow, at first, still reeling from his first orgasm, thrusting deep but leisurely, working the whole of his substantial length in and out. Hux still won't say anything, but his mind is full of _yes, like that_. It's a little easier to control himself, having taken the edge off his own urges, a little easier to not get swept up in the bonfire of Hux's heat.  
  
He wants to make this _good_ for Hux, as a matter of pride. No doubt Hux will find something to sneer about, but he won't be able to claim Ren left him unsatisfied. He starts to search for that sweet spot inside him, the one that will make Hux's choked-off grunts become wails of pleasure, tilting his hips as he pushes in, changing the angle minutely until–

“Ah! Fuck!” Hux _writhes_ beneath him, shock and pleasure running through his mind. Ren does it again, abusing his prostate with hard, direct thrusts, fascinated by the internal battle raging inside Hux – his omega side revelling in how good his _alpha_ is making him feel, but his logical side wanting to panic and pull away because he can't stand to let _Ren_ know how well he’s doing.  
  
Grinning, Ren slips one hand under him, making a tight fist around his leaking cock, but Hux hisses, refusing to give him that much control, and knocks Ren's hand out of the way so he can take care of himself.  
  
Ren's connection to Hux's mind means he _feels_ the man's pleasure rising, as the sensations radiating from his ass and cock combine into a pounding arousal that practically shakes him apart.

“Knot me,” Hux groans.

“What?” Ren genuinely didn't hear him, too busy concentrating on maintaining the best angle.

“Give me your knot, _alpha_ ,” he snaps.  
  
Ren's only popped his knot a scant few times, and always by accident – mercifully solitary ones. He's never knotted anyone. There isn't time for performance anxiety though, he just has to trust that his body knows how to provide what his omega needs.  
  
He focuses on Hux's scent, for the first time really _letting_ it affect him. It's the most wonderful things he's ever smelled, eloquently demanding he protect Hux and provide for him and most of all pump him full of his seed.

The change in his cock starts as a sort of tingle at the base, like a tiny charge that thrums through him, making his breath hitch as he starts to expand. The swelling catches on Hux's rim, and the man gasps despite himself, fists clenching just as his ass does and Ren slams his hips forward, pushing the knot inside and Hux _comes_ , climaxing around the rapidly expanding bulb.  
  
The force of it hits Ren like a suckerpunch, triggering his own orgasm, and Hux cries out again as Ren's come spurts into him. Ren hadn't understood how having anything that big inside you could be comfortable, let alone enjoyable, but Hux is insensible with pleasure, his aftershocks squeezing Ren's knot in soft little pulses.  
  
Ren can barely breathe. His orgasm won't stop, he's spilling into Hux's eager hole like his essence is being wrung out of him. He doesn't even come this much during his ruts. He collapses forward, reeling with the sensation of being milked, and barely manages to get a hand down in time to avoid dropping his full weight onto Hux. The man gasps as the movement pulls the knot against his rim. They are thoroughly tied together – no way can they separate until the swelling goes down.  
  
For a few minutes, there's no sound except their panting.

“Better?” he asks.

“It won't last,” says Hux sourly.  
  
At least for now, his heat seems to have receded, giving them both clearer heads. Hux huffs, annoyed when Ren starts to roll them over enough to lie on the fragile camp bed. The knot is very _present_ inside him, satisfying but barely the right side of too much, and Ren tries not to jostle it. They finish up lying on their sides, not touching except where they're so intimately connected.  
  
It's awkward. It's… awful.  
  
Ren's realising, with a sinking stomach, that this whole heat experience is going to be as embarrassing for him as it is for Hux. He's beset by the foreign urge to cuddle the omega and curl around him and promise to protect him from everything – and Hux _wants_ that, he _does_. But he also _hates_ how much he wants it. Like Ren, he keeps squashing it down, holding himself perfectly still, every line of him tense.  
  
Ren has to do something about this.

“Listen to me,” he says, glad his voice comes out steady. “We are making a pact, you and I.”

Hux is broadcasting irritated confusion. “A pact?”

“Yeah. We get through your heat. We find a way to get back to the First Order. And we never speak of anything that goes on here ever again.”

“Why would we do that?” Hux's head twists, but the angle makes it impossible to see Ren's face, to check if he's serious or not.

Ren sighs. “Because if we can't put aside at least a bit of our antagonism, the next few days are going to be excruciating – we'll both be fighting internal battles, trying not to give the other ammunition. So let's... not. Let's just _not_ do that. Let's call a truce.”

“You're willing to, what? Pretend this whole mess never happened?” asks Hux, openly sceptical.

“If you are, yes.”

“People will guess. They'll _know_ , unless this place has a full-strength chemical shower somewhere. We stink like each other already.”

“Then they'll know I served you, nothing else.”  
  
Hux is suspicious and stubborn, and convincing him is like trying to tame a feral lothcat. Of course, Ren could just explain that _he's_ as desperate to give in to the heat as Hux is, but there's no way he's revealing the omega has any power over him until he's secured Hux's cooperation.  
  
“We're not enemies, Hux,” he tries. “We're not even rivals right now.”

“Then what?” Hux spits. “Surely you aren't going to say 'friends'?”

“We're _allies_. We don't have to like each other to reach a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“'Mutually beneficial'?” Hux sneers. “What's in this for you? I assumed you would want to gloat over how pathetically I needed your cock.”  
  
Wow. It's insulting that Hux thought Ren would throw serving him in his face at every opportunity – and narcissistic that he thought Ren would _brag_ about it too, but arguing that point won't be productive.  
  
Ren thinks quickly. Outright lying to Hux isn't a smart idea – the man is sharp enough to see through most bullshit. But telling him the barefaced truth – that Ren's using him to learn about omegas – will likely make him _more_ combative, _more_ resistant to any kind of cooperation. So, something true, but not the truth…  
  
“What's in it for me is _you_. I need you alive and sane afterwards – you have a better shot than me at making something that can send long-range transmissions out of the junk here,” he says, doing a decent job of sounding like he doesn't want to admit it.  
  
He doesn't, really. His grandfather was a brilliant mechanic, and while Ren has inherited his piloting skills ( _not_ Han's), he lacks that technical genius. Hux, on the other hand, is _very_ good with machines and electronics. Ren's never really thought about it before, but he must have a background in engineering, to have been put in charge of building Starkiller.

The gambit works. Hux is preening that Ren acknowledges he's _better_ at something, and it's enough to get the man to actually consider what Ren's suggesting. Ren keeps quiet, just watching Hux's thought process.

“Okay,” says Hux eventually. He clears his throat. “Okay. We're agreeing that after my heat is over, we don't mock or judge or even _mention_ what either of us did during it?”

“Yes.”  
  
In the few minutes he was thinking, Hux has evaluated a myriad of possibilities for how this could go – worst-case scenarios, long-term implications, damage reduction strategies – but luckily, he seems to have concluded that the offer is worth taking. It's worth the risk that Ren is somehow tricking him.  
  
“Oh, thank stars,” Ren mutters, sliding one arm under Hux's neck and the other around his waist, tugging him back against Ren's chest in a relieved hug.  
  
Hux starts, alarmed by how good it feels, having his alpha surrounding him. He automatically tries to quash the feeling down, mind throwing up a dozen frantic, half-formed reasons why he can't just relax into this, why he has to keep his guard up.

Ren groans. “Hux,” he commands, “Everything will be fine.” He pushes the idea into Hux, not sure this will work, even with Hux's mind a quivering mess.

“Everything?” The man snorts. Okay, that was too broad.

“Your heat will be fine,” he tries again, making a quick gesture. This time, some of the tension visibly leaves Hux's shoulders.

“My heat will be fine,” he repeats dreamily, softening against Ren's chest.  
  
Ren almost feels bad for manipulating him, but dismisses it as an echo of Skywalker's sanctimonious teachings. Subduing Hux's misgivings was a perfectly practical thing to do, he tells himself, ignoring the fact that if he told Hux what he'd just done, the man would bite his hand off.  
  
“I still hate this,” says Hux abruptly, like he has to make that clear.  
  
Ren knows he's probably the last alpha Hux would have picked, if he'd had a choice, but looking closer, he's starting to realise that Hux has an aversion to heats that isn't to do with _him_. It goes deeper than that. He'd assumed that Hux hadn't let himself have regular heats because he was busy being indispensable, but that's not the reason. Or not _just_ that.  
  
“Even if you keep your word, and don't say anything,” Hux carries on, “you'll always _know_ what I'm like, when I'm at the mercy of my hormones. It's mortifying. Undignified.” He's talking about Ren, but he's also talking about _any_ alpha who serves him.  
  
Ren presses his forehead against Hux's hair, trying not to laugh. The man's worried about how he _acts_ , when Ren's in his head, hearing everything he thinks. And besides—

“Hux, this isn't even the biggest indignity you've suffered _today_. Relax.”  
  
There's a long silence.

“I can't believe you stuffed me in a wampa,” Hux grumbles.

Ren squeezes him gently. “It worked, right? You don't have frostbite anywhere?”  
  
Hux already inspected himself in the bath, but he holds up a hand so Ren can see. The skin is red, and there are a couple of shallow blisters, but no sign of lasting damage. Ren's alpha side is pleased his omega is uninjured, and the rest of him is pleased his plan was a success.  
  
Finally, Ren's knot starts to deflate, his cock going soft and slipping out of Hux. The man shifts in his arms, finding a more comfortable position, but he doesn't immediately pull away. Not that there's really anywhere to go – the bed is barely wider than a standard bunk aboard the Finalizer.  
  
The chamber is starting to warm up, as it was designed to, with the combined heat of two hormone-filled bodies and a round of frantic sex, but Hux is still a bit chilled… Or, no, it's more like he feels _exposed_ , lying here naked with Ren. Ren grabs for the blanket, about to spread it over them when his hand encounters something unpleasantly wet and sticky. He shudders.

“Oh… I came on it,” says Hux. Ren pulls a face, wiping his hand on Hux, who wriggles, trying to squirm away.

“Hey! It was better than lying in a wet patch until your knot went down!”  
  
Hux's slick has made enough of a wet patch, where slow dribbles of it are coating his ass and Ren's crotch. Oh kriff – he never took his pants off. They're soaked. Does slick stain? He eases Hux away and strips them off, chucking them on the floor. More importantly, does the smell wash out? If it doesn’t, he is going to be sporting a permanent erection when he puts those back on.  
  
Hux wipes his smeared come off with a corner of the blanket, relegating it to the end of the bed. He's clocked a pile of clean (clean _er_ ) blankets on another camp bed, and is about to haul himself up to grab some when Ren puts a hand on his arm. Reaching out with the Force, he summons a few, enjoying Hux's surprise as he drapes them gently over their bodies. The contrary man even has to stop himself saying 'thank you'.  
  
Huffing, Ren curls around Hux again, pressing flush against him, rubbing his palm over Hux's front, his chest, his belly. He's not sure why he feels the need to keep touching Hux, as if he might disappear, now that they aren't physically attached...  
  
There's a deep gurgle below his palm, as Hux's stomach reminds him he's starving, and Ren is delighted to discover that the tips of Hux's ears turn red when he's embarrassed.

“I found some edible supplies in the canteen,” he says. “I think I dumped them within reach.”  
  
Hux rolls towards the edge of the bed, reaching down blindly, coming back up with a ration bar of indeterminate flavour.

“Edible, you said?” He inspects the bar.

“I ate one and I'm not dead yet."

Hux shrugs, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. “The company that made these collapsed twenty years ago,” he says, like a last ditch attempt to stop himself, but he really is starving. Even though Ren did all the work to get them here, omegas expend a lot of energy on their heats.

“There's water too,” says Ren.  
  
Hux has his mouth full of ration bar, so the grateful noise he makes is pretty muffled, but it still makes Ren's lips twitch into a smile.  
  
Once he's devoured the bar, Hux leans back down, managing to retrieve a jug of water without spilling any. Ren can see the tremble in his muscles as he lifts it, drinking in sloppy gulps. He hands the remainder to Ren.

“You want another nutritious, thirty-year-old, food-adjacent snack?” Ren nods, draining the jug and floating it back to the floor. Hux chucks a bar over his shoulder. “How many more of these are there?”

“Uh, I just grabbed what I found. There might be others stored somewhere.”

“ _Might_ be?”

“I had more pressing issues to deal with,” Ren grumbles. He could go and check – _wants_ to, wants to provide for Hux, but at the same time the idea of leaving his side is unthinkable. Hux lets it drop, studying the label on one of the wrappers, a frown growing.

“What?” asks Ren, grabbing it off him before he can throw it in frustration.

Hux presses the heels of his hands over his eyes. “I can't do the math. Stupid heat-brain.”

Ren looks at the energy information. “How much do the stormtroopers get, per day?” Hux tells him. “Okay, minimum one, ideally two of these a day, then. How many do we have? Or is counting beyond you too?”

Hux scowls, leaning over the edge of the bed again. “Two more.” Oh. That'll barely last another day, then – not that they can even keep track of time, in the windowless snow bunker.  
  
“Heats are usually about three days. Or…” he stops. “They are if you have them regularly.” He doesn't look at Ren, but he's thinking that heats can be longer if you have them infrequently.

Ren resists berating him again. “I'll find more, or we could resort to the mysterious vacuum-packed… things. We're not going to starve – we're in a way better position than _last_ night, at least.”  
  
Hux nods, mutely, cursing his biology all over again. Ren can't be bothered dealing with that angst, and just wraps an arm around him, guiding him back into their previous spooning position.  
  
The movement seems to wake up that dormant energy bubbling inside Hux, and the man groans.

“Again?” asks Ren.

“Yeah,” he whispers, pressing his ass into Ren's rapidly hardening cock.  
  
Ren rolls him onto his back, leaning over him, testing first of all whether Hux can stand facing him. Being fucked from behind allows him a bit more space to pretend this isn't happening, if that's still what he needs. But the man is distracted, tracing the planes of Ren's chest and shoulders almost greedily.  
  
He's a _good_ alpha, he picks up, from Hux's subconscious. His omega side is glorying in Ren's strength, his power. Not just the physical either – Ren protected him, got him food, found him a nest... He raises an eyebrow at Hux, wanting him to realise Ren overheard that, but the man doesn't notice.  
  
The sensation of warm hands touching him is… nice. Nicer than he'd expected, given that it's _Hux_ staring up at him with unfocused eyes. He keeps expecting to see the usual derisive sneer on Hux's face, and it's distracting. Maybe he should take Hux from behind just for _his_ benefit...  
  
Then Hux tilts his head minutely, and Ren's gaze is drawn to the man's pale throat. Well, pale except for the bruises Ren gave him for disparaging Snoke. Ren's twinge of guilt is washed away when he catches a stronger burst of that delicious, brain-scrambling smell emanating from Hux. He groans, burying his face into Hux's neck, mouthing at his scent glands desperately.

“Ah, careful – don't bite,” Hux warns.  
  
Ren's growl is both possessive and pained, but he doesn't use his teeth. He's got enough sanity to recognise that bonding Hux, now or _ever_ , would be a monumentally terrible idea – however amazing he smells, however beautifully he yields around Ren's cock, however much his omega side _craves_ Ren, he's still a smug, conceited asshole.  
  
“Come on, alpha, I need you inside me,” the conceited asshole whispers, tangling his fingers in Ren's mop of hair.  
  
Ren shifts his weight to one arm, reaching down to position himself at Hux's entrance. Hux curls up a little, giving him a better angle, and the head slips in, the rest of his cock following in one smooth glide that has Ren gasping against Hux's neck. How is he so soft and warm inside when he's brittle and icy on the surface? It's dizzying.  
  
Ren's hips are already moving without his conscious direction, thrusting languidly into Hux, waiting for some sign that he can go faster. He can tell – maybe better than Hux can himself – that the man below him wants a moment to appreciate the relief of having his alpha filling him. It's almost good enough to let him forget where he is and who's fucking him.  
  
Ren chuckles, hearing that vague thought, and nuzzles into Hux's throat, breathing in his scent, relishing the way it makes his body tighten. Hux's fingers clench in his hair even as his ass clenches around his cock, the need inside him suddenly tipping towards _more_ , and Ren can't help but obey, hips snapping, pumping his cock deep and hard into Hux's silky heat.  
  
Hux has a little more energy now, after eating – Ren can feel it in the way his muscles tense, meeting every inward thrust, trying to make sure Ren goes as deep as he possibly can. There's a growl of impatience and then Hux's legs are wrapped securely around Ren, clamping tight enough to stop him pulling out, limiting him to shallow little twitches that keep most of his cock buried inside Hux. It's the right angle for Hux, pressing Ren into his prostate, but it's not enough friction – they both need Ren to pound and hammer into him.

“Ease up a bit,” Ren murmurs, and Hux shakes his head frantically even as his legs loosen, giving Ren more range.  
  
Ren slides a hand to the base of Hux's spine, holding him up, helping him maintain that precious angle as he drives into Hux, and is rewarded with nails clawing at his back as Hux's urgent, demanding pleasure builds.  
  
Ren looks down, and… oh, it _is_ different, when he can see Hux's face. The man is trying so hard not to show how this is affecting him, but his cheeks are flushed and he's biting his lip and it might be the most adorable thing Ren's ever seen. He cups Hux's face, brushing his thumb over the blush there.

“I've got you,” he whispers. Hux's eyes flash open, glaring at him – there's that familiar scowl. It doesn't irritate him half as much when underneath it he can feel Hux begging him to come. “You want my knot?”

“Always,” Hux hisses. “Don't ask, just give it to me.”  
  
It's like Hux has direct control of his cock – immediately the swelling starts, tingles racing over Ren's skin, collecting in his balls, in the base of his cock. He catches a knife-sharp burst of satisfaction from Hux, that he can make Ren come on command, but he doesn't have chance to object because _fuck_ it's starting, and all he can do is bury himself in Hux, knot inflating, plugging that slick passage up tight.  
  
His come pulses from him in long spurts, and a second later Hux's climax hits, triggered by the fullness in his ass, his inner muscles quaking around Ren's _perfect huge wonderful_ knot. Ren goes blind with it, with his own ecstasy – and Hux's – singing through him. A wordless, formless sound escapes Hux as he spills between their bellies, barely anything compared to the ongoing flood of Ren's come.  
  
When his awareness finally recenters on his own body, Ren sighs, for an instant feeling utterly contented. He's surrounded by Hux, captured by his arms and legs and his soft, sweet ass, and he's holding Ren so jealously inside himself that he can't bear to disengage, even a little.  
  
Ren catches his breath with his face pressed to Hux's throat, enjoying the tremble in Hux limbs when his knot pulses weakly. It won't go down for another half an hour, if last time is any guide. Maybe he should have got them into a different position, one that's more comfortable for Hux? He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, aware he's heavy, but Hux's arms tighten.

“No, stay. I like you on top of me.” That was… unguarded. He'd definitely have heard that as a thought, but he wasn't expecting Hux to _say_ it.

“…Okay,” he murmurs, settling back down.  
  
Hux gives a tiny sigh or relief, stroking his back like a thank you, not really aware he's doing it. This round seems to have properly sated his heat, at least for now, so his body will allow him a little respite. A slow wave of exhaustion sweeps through him, making him yawn.  
  
“You're really going to fall asleep while I'm still inside you?” Ren teases, because he can't resist, when Hux is so uncharacteristically docile.

“S'fine,” comes the slurred response.  
  
Hux's thoughts are already uncoupling as he dozes off, but Ren blinks when he catches the last of them. He makes Hux feel… safe. Huh. He's pretty sure he's never made him feel anything except annoyed or afraid, before.  
  
He fumbles for the blankets, rearranging them to cover their bodies. Hux doesn't register it at all – he's gone.  
  
For a long while, Ren just listens to the gentle snuffle of Hux's breath, until it occurs to him that the weird, forced-affection he's feeling right now needs some examining. As does _everything_ he's experienced during this heat. Experience is the source of learning, Luke had told him – _Ben_ – on many occasions, but reflection is the source of wisdom.

Ren takes a minute to collect and calm his mind, picturing a dark pond growing still, the last ripples petering out… Except they don't, not fully. There's something still there, disturbing the surface...  
  
_Hux_.  
  
The man's asleep, but even so, Ren is aware of his non-existent thoughts. It's like his consciousness overlaps with Hux's, somehow, and when he tries to withdraw, to leave Hux's mind fully, he can't. His alpha side won't accept knowing _less_ than he could about his omega's needs – he's tied to Hux, mentally, as surely as his knot is tieing them physically. Fuck. He should have noticed this happening. When did he start hearing _everything_ Hux thinks, not just the bits he was listening for?  
  
Ren hasn't reached any useful conclusions by the time his knot recedes. He eases himself out of Hux's slack embrace, wincing as tacky come peels off his stomach, and lies down beside him. Hux doesn't wake, but a slight frown creases his forehead until Ren rolls on his side, slinging an arm over him.  
  
His scent has lost the sexual overtones for now, and it's just giving off a straightforward need for comfort and company. Ren inhales deeply, letting the feeling of being what his omega needs lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’mma get the other chapters up as soon as I can. They’re written (I have to write the whole fic before I post any of it, otherwise my continuity goes to shit), but they need some detailed speech punctuation and formatting checks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: Hux does have a good reason for disliking heats... Nothing is described in detail, but please check the tags!

He wakes disoriented, but not by the impenetrable blackness of the chamber. Hux is _gone_. He knows it before any of his senses bring him that information. His omega is _not here_. Hux _needs_ him – he can feel it in Hux's mind, that he wants Ren's arms around him and his cock inside him and _why isn't he here_?  
  
He flings the blanket aside and sits up, reaching for Hux, not caring that he's too rough and the man staggers under the weight of Ren's call. The door swings open, and there's a figure outlined there, holding the lamp and clutching its head.  
  
“Hux—” he croaks, and then the other man is in his lap, and he's not sure if he used the Force to pull him there or not but Hux is _purring_ reassurance, hands roving over Ren's back.  
  
“I was just using the fresher. I'm back, I'm fine – I promise.”  
  
Ren is close to sobbing, from relief or embarrassment, could be either. “That was horrible,” he shudders, voice muffled because he's speaking into Hux's neck, where he can feel the soft vibration of his purr. His arms are too tight around the poor man, but unless he picks up actual pain in Hux's feedback, he's not releasing him. He can't.  
  
“I thought I'd get back before you woke. Thought I had enough time before it started building up again,” Hux admits, stroking his tangled hair.  
  
“This is why the heat quarters have ensuite freshers, isn't it?” Ren groans.  
  
Hux laughs softly, but he's thinking that most alphas don't react this violently to being separated from their omega, not during a lull. He leans back a little, testing whether Ren can let him. Ren takes another deep breath of Hux's scent, and manages to relax his grip. Not fully – he's not convinced he'll ever be able to stop touching the man – but enough that Hux can look at him.  
  
“It does seem to be affecting you very strongly,” he says.  
  
Ren sighs. “Well… of course. I'm feeling most of what _you_ are as well.” The lamp that's now lying on the floor where Hux dropped it casts his face in severe shadows, but Ren still sees his eyes widen.  
  
“Oh kriff, I didn't think about how it might affect your… powers.” He makes the hand-wavey motion again, but the rest of his body is very still.  
  
“I can't... I can't draw away. I think we're too connected, at the moment.”  
  
“This is different to your normal snooping, I take it?”  
  
Ren doesn't rise to the bait. “Yes. I'm aware of emotions in the people around me most of the time, but right now it's… deeper.”  
  
“Deeper?” Hux repeats, his voice and his thoughts layered with scepticism. But he's relieved Ren is _trying_ to explain – usually he brushes off Hux's queries, claiming it's impossible for a layperson to understand.  
  
Ren blinks. He hadn't realised it was that way round – he doesn't try to explain the Force because he runs smack into a wall of disdain, but _not_ explaining just builds that wall higher.  
  
“Yes. Deeper. Think of minds with four levels, okay? There's emotions, conscious thoughts, unconscious thoughts, and memories.” He makes hand gestures. “As a rule, people don't notice that I'm sensing their emotions, but sometimes, if they're expecting it, they can feel my presence when I'm truly reading their thoughts.”  
  
Hux nods, already jumping ahead, remembering the interrogation chambers, and Ren burrowing into that resistance pilot's mind.  
  
“Yes, exactly. It takes a lot of concentration to drag a memory out of someone, if they aren't thinking about it. And it can be painful, for the subject.”  
  
Hux frowns, noticing with growing trepidation that he hadn't said that out loud. “So it's not just emotions, is it?” he asks, very much afraid of the answer. “You mean you're reading deeper than that.”  
  
Ren rubs circles into his back, trying to be soothing, trying to ignore the clamour of his alpha side insisting he comfort his omega, instead of upsetting him. “Normally, I have to _decide_ to read someone's conscious or unconscious thoughts, but right now…”  
  
_<_ _You're hearing everything?_ _>_ Hux thinks deliberately, despair sweeping through him when Ren nods.  
  
“It's easier the more familiar I am with someone, and the fewer other people are around, so you had those factors working against you already. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't notice it yourself.” That's hardly fair – _Ren_ didn't realise until a few hours ago, but he's just trying to get a rise out of Hux, to distract him a little.  
  
“Heat-brain,” mutters Hux. “I'm not as sharp as I usually am.”  
  
Ren snorts. “ _Suspicious._ You're not as suspicious as you usually are.” Most of the times Hux suspected Ren of reading his mind, he wasn't – it was just paranoia, which Ren shamelessly fed. He liked Hux being on edge around him, but right now the man is definitely on edge and it's _awful_.  
  
“Just when I thought I had a handle on how humiliating this whole thing was going to be, there had to be more,” Hux sighs.  
  
Ren pulls the lamp towards them, hanging it back on the hook protruding from the wall, illuminating the room more fully. Hux doesn't want to look at him, was happier with them both in shadows, but Ren needs him to see the sincerity on his face.  
  
“There's no point being embarrassed – it's a waste of energy. _I_ can't stop and _you_ can't stop me. We agreed not to speak of anything that goes on here, remember?” Hux still has doubts rattling around about their promise, but he recognises that he _has_ to cling to it like a liferaft, or he can't face this.  
  
Ren cups his cheek with one hand, wishing he could convince him. Nothing he says will get through, and if he tries to mind-trick Hux right now, it will backfire. Hux's eyes flutter closed, like he's drawing strength from Ren's warm palm.  
  
“Is it like this with every omega you serve?” he asks.  
  
“I…” Well. While they're being honest… “I've never served an omega before.”  
  
Hux blinks at him. “You've... _never_?”  
  
Ren's expecting Hux's mind to flit back, recontextualising every dumb thing he's done in this new light. But instead, he's picking up just one idea – of _course_ Ren hasn't served anyone. Hux should have realised as soon as he found out what Ren had done, to bring him here. An experienced alpha would know how powerful heat pheromones are – they'd never have risked approaching him, in the snow.  
  
It's hard to argue with his assessment. Ren is now acutely aware of how easily and _badly_ wrong his plan could have gone, even with his Force abilities.  
  
“Why?” Hux blurts out, when Ren doesn't say anything further.  
  
“Why haven't I served anyone? What sort of question is that?” His instinct is to be offended, but Hux is actually wondering if he's dangerous, or meant to be celibate, or if he has an aversion to heats like Hux does.  
  
“It's... personal.”  
  
“Oh, _is_ it?” Hux bristles, resenting that Ren gets to hear Hux's secrets while guarding his own.  
  
“No one's ever asked me,” he says, staring Hux down, daring him to even _think_ of gloating. Who would ask him? He's acquainted with exactly two unbonded omegas, and both of them more or less want him dead.  
  
“Well,” says Hux eventually, “I'm sorry your first time had to be with me, then.”  
  
Ren is about to snap that he wasn't a blushing virgin, when he realises Hux's expression has softened, just a touch. Telling him was the right thing, somehow – a little bit of his own vulnerability, offered in trade for everything Hux has no choice about giving Ren. A way to prove he meant what he said, about a pact.  
  
Hux sniffs. “…You're doing well.” _Very_ well, he's thinking.  
  
Ren gives him a wonky smile and taps his temple. “I know.”  
  
“Ah. Figures. I guess… you're cheating a bit, if you can pick up cues straight from my brain.”  
  
“You're not complaining, surely?” Hux isn't, but needling each other makes this feel marginally more normal, even though he's straddling Ren's lap, stark naked, his slick starting to drip onto Ren's growing erection.  
  
Hux leans his forehead against Ren's, like he's inviting Ren to read his mind. “What do I want, right now?”  
  
“You want me to put my cock inside you before you have to beg for it.”  
  
Hux shivers. “You could have guessed that.”  
  
“But I didn't.” They're both grinning now.  
  
Ren slides his hands down Hux's back, cupping his ass and pulling him in closer, and Hux reaches behind himself to position Ren's length, gasping as Ren flexes his hips, pushing up as he lowers Hux agonisingly slowly. Hux is wet and open for him, accepting every inch without resistance. They keep their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, breaths mingling, until Ren is fully seated.  
  
“Stars, you're so big,” Hux murmurs. “You can feel that, right? How perfectly full I am?” He can, especially with Hux projecting the sensations to him – he's not sure Hux realises that's what he's doing, but there's no need to tell him. He might _stop_.  
  
Hux squeezes his inner muscles, massaging Ren's cock, and Ren groans, dropping his head, sinking his teeth into Hux's shoulder, mimicking what he'd like to do to his scent glands. They move in tandem, in sync, Hux's thighs and Ren's arms working to build their pleasure, a glorious push and pull, give and take. Hux's hands are buried in his hair, drawing him away when he bites too hard.  
  
“I bruise easily,” he whispers, and fuck that shouldn't be a nice image – Hux's pale skin littered with purple splotches from Ren's hands, his mouth. He licks over the bite mark in feigned apology, drawing a quiet whimper from the man riding him.  
  
Ren already knows he's knotting Hux this time, it's inevitable – he needs to lock Hux to him as long as possible, to banish the leftover fear from waking up without him. He snaps his hips up, as much as he can in this position, making Hux take another inch.  
  
“Yes!” the man sighs, “Ren, _alpha_ , just like that!” A happy side effect of their conversation seems to be that Hux feels comfortable enough to voice his pleasure – despite knowing that he doesn't need to.  
  
Ren would not have guessed that he'd enjoy Hux talking while they fuck. But he also wouldn't have guessed Hux would be gasping incoherent praise for him as he tries to swallow Ren faster and harder, chasing his own arousal. For the first time since his heat started, he wants to come more than he wants Ren to, and it's beautiful to observe.  
  
Hux's cock is smearing precome on his abs, rubbing over them, and just as Ren's wondering whether he can spare a hand to jerk him off, Hux's release overtakes him, his whole body tensing as his cock spurts. The combination of his ass clenching around Ren, and his mind exploding with pleasure drags Ren over the precipice of orgasm, his knot swelling fast, pressing into the welcoming grip of Hux's insides as he comes in shuddering pulses.  
  
“Fuck!” he shouts, or thinks he does, arms tightening, holding Hux still. He loves how readily the man complies, hips barely twitching as he accepts Ren's come, aftershocks squeezing him gently, demanding more. The fluid seems to literally sooth Hux, like a balm to his overheated passage.  
  
He's not sure who's trembling worse, right then.  
  
“Good?” he asks, after a while.  
  
Hux mentally jabs him. < _You know I am. You know it was._ _>_ He doesn't tell Hux how much he'd prefer to make him admit it out loud.  
  
The man is radiating satisfaction, eyes half-closed, fingers idly stroking Ren's hair. Hux really likes his hair, he notes, resolving to brush it for him at the earliest opportunity. He can't quite pick up _what_ he likes about it – Hux's thoughts are a jumble of pleasure right now.  
  
The man pushes some of it back, curling down to nibble at the ear he's exposed. Ren suppresses a burst of trepidation – he hates how big his ears are – but Hux's feedback is nothing but enjoyment. He's fascinated that there should be something so delicate anywhere on Ren's solid body. Something that isn't built for battle or destruction.  
  
Ren nearly laughs, but manages to turn it into a huff as Hux licks all the way up the shell, tongue teasing. He'd let Hux tease his cock like that, he thinks, as his knot pulses again. If Hux wanted to. Not that he _would_ , during a heat.  
  
Hux wraps his arms around Ren's back, laying his head on Ren's shoulder, breath tickling his neck. He's not clinging quite as hard as last night – well, before they fell asleep, if that _was_ night – but he still hums contentedly when Ren hugs him back. Ren is certain he's never felt this… needed. This treasured.  
  
“What are you doing to me?” he wonders, quietly. “It's like you put me under a spell. You aren't secretly some kind of magic-user, are you? Or maybe you drugged me, or infected me with a mind-controlling parasite?”  
  
Hux scoffs. “It's just hormones – you'll be fine afterwards, once it's over.” He's not lying. There's no deception in his thoughts, just a mild surprise as he's reminded that Ren really _doesn't_ know how this works. Ren has to agree he was woefully unprepared for how it would feel, to serve someone.  
  
He carries on stroking Hux, tracing his shoulder blades, the bumps of his spine, until he starts to pick up a niggle of discomfort. The man swallows, throat aching, and Ren realises he's thirsty. Over Hux's shoulder, he spots a discarded jug, and calls it into his hand. Hux jumps, flinching as his rim pulls against the knot.  
  
“Ouch. Warn me when you're doing stuff like that,” he grumbles, settling back down. “I used the last of the water in the fresher,” he adds. Ren thinks about admonishing him for assuming Ren can and will just create more, but… But of course he will – he can't _not_ attend to Hux's needs.  
  
“This is me warning you, okay? Stay still, I need to concentrate.” He stretches a hand out towards the far wall, the crumbled one, making a scooping gesture to carve out a small block of snow. Hux cranes round despite Ren's warning, watching it float towards them, until Ren packs it carefully into the jug.  
  
“Is it wise to be damaging our shelter like that?”  
  
“It'll be fine.” There's a dull 'whump' as snow crumbles into the gap he's left.  
  
Hux raises an eyebrow. “Will it?” Ren opens his mouth to argue that one extra hole won't make the whole room collapse, but Hux cuts him off. “You know what, don't say anything. You'll jinx it.” Ren headbutts him, but gently.  
  
He holds the jug underneath, focusing on sending warmth into the snow inside. It's an interesting challenge, using the Force while distracted by his omega, still soft and tight around his knot. Melting the snow takes him longer than it should, just because he's trying not to inadvertently shove too much power in and boil it.  
  
He holds the jug out to Hux, once he's done, and the man peers inside, swirling the water curiously. Ren's just trying to decipher why he's curious about _water_ when Hux glances at him.  
  
“I've never been this close to you, when you use the Force.” Well, it would be tough to be closer to someone than _inside_ them. But… wait, was that the right terminology? Has Hux just said 'use the Force' instead of 'do your Force thing' or 'use your mind powers' or something equally banal? He _has_.  
  
“I thought maybe I'd feel… something?”  
  
“You aren't Force-sensitive,” Ren says, puzzled.  
  
“Oh, I know,” Hux sounds relieved, “but I can feel it when you use it _on_ me – when you throw me around, or choke me, or sometimes when you read my mind. So. I just wondered.” He shrugs, taking a long drink from the jug.  
  
Ren isn't quite sure what to do with that. People who aren't sensitive don't have a hope of understanding how vast the Force is, or how unstoppable it makes you feel, to bend it to your will. He couldn't explain it, even if he wanted to.  
  
Hux offers him the water jug, and he swigs from it before leaning over to set it down. His knot has started deflating now, so Hux doesn't hiss with discomfort at the movement.  
  
“Where's the sacrificial blanket?” Hux asks, glancing around. Ren plucks it from its sad pile at the end of the bed, and Hux briskly wipes the come off their fronts. He stifles a whine as Ren finally slips out, and dismounts him on shaky legs, flopping face down onto the mattress.  
  
There's slick glossing his thighs, and Ren is again struck by an overwhelming desire to lick it up, trace it back to his loose, puffy hole and delve inside with his tongue. Maybe later.

He finds the depleted pile of food he grabbed from the canteen, choosing one of the vacuum-packed… things. The label has faded completely – there's no way to guess what it is, beyond the dark reddish colour. He tears it open and takes a cautious sniff. It's not offensive. It's maybe even a bit familiar, in a 'long ago' way…?  
  
_Ben_. Ben ate this, whatever it is.  
  
He concentrates, trying to extract the memory without triggering any others. Ben was… around seven? He was in the Falcon, bothering Han as he tried to work on some repairs. Han had bribed him off with a snack.  
  
< _Don't tell mom, kiddo._ _>_  
  
Ren jerks back to himself, nearly crushing the packet in his alarm.  
  
“Ren?” Hux is peering at him, concerned.  
  
“It's koyo fruit,” he says, a bit bewildered. Hux rolls his eyes and lies back down, deciding concern was not warranted. Ren bites into one of the fruits. It's leathery, the taste muffled with age, but it's not _bad_.  
  
“Hux, have you ever had koyo fruit?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He pokes Hux's cheek with one, until he grudgingly takes it.  
  
“They don't have any nutritional value,” he comments, examining the dried fruit.  
  
“Yeah, but they _taste_ nice.” Which emphatically cannot be said of the ration bars.  
  
It shouldn't surprise him that Hux doesn't understand how indulgence enhances life – he's utilitarian to his core. Everything he does is perfectly suited to its purpose, and that's satisfying to him.  
  
“Just try it,” Ren sighs, when Hux doesn't move.  
  
The man nibbles a corner of the fruit, his expression clearing. “Huh. Sweet.”  
  
Ren has to turn away so Hux won't see the huge grin on his face. He's comparing it to something similar he used to eat on Arkanis, same colour but a little spicier than koyo fruit, definitely not the same thing...  
  
Oh. _Arkanis_. That's where Hux is from. Another detail he'd never considered worth knowing. Hux has memorized the origin of every officer on the Finalizer, even though the First Order training batters any cultural differences firmly out of them.  
  
Ren finishes a couple more fruits and stretches out next to Hux, nudging him until he moves over, giving Ren a bit more space. He drags a hand slowly up and down Hux's spine – his skin is so soft, unmarred by scars – and Hux fishes for one of the cleaner blankets, throwing it haphazardly over them.

The snow fortress around them dampens any sound, so for a long while, all he can hear is Hux's slow breathing. He's not asleep, but he's spent and safe and his alpha is close by, so he's relaxed enough to doze. Thank stars he doesn't snore.

It happens gradually, but Ren can sense the need building up in him, before the other man will even admit it. Hux is irritated that his body craves another round so soon – he was just getting warm and comfy, or as close to either of those as this bunk will allow, and he buries his face in the lumpy pillow, trying to ignore it.  
  
Ren winces as his hardening cock pushes up against rough material of the blanket, responding to his omega's call, and opts to give in before the nagging desire can get worse, for either of them.  
  
He rolls Hux onto his back, lifting his hips so he can slide back in, taking it slow. They share a sigh, at the feeling of being reunited, and Ren braces himself on his elbows, keeping most of his weight off Hux as he starts rocking in long, lazy thrusts.  
  
He's trying to tell Hux with his body that he can relax, that he doesn't have to put effort in this time. It seems to work – Hux bites off a moan, loving how sweet it feels to be attended to, to be cared for like this. He doesn't need to explain what he wants, Ren will still hear him. Any other time, Hux knows he'd be panicking about his rival having unrestricted, unfiltered access to his thoughts, but right now it doesn't feel like a bad trade, if it means Ren can pleasure him like this.  
  
He trails his hands idly along the flexing muscles of Ren's sides, just shy of tickling, exploring the knot of scar tissue from the bowcaster injury before he realises what it is. Apology flashes through his mind.  
  
“S'okay,” Ren murmurs. It _is_ , he's surprised to find – his body is entirely at Hux's disposal. He can touch whatever he wants. He doesn't linger on the scar though, he just settles into the bed, eyes fluttering closed, enjoying the languid movement of Ren inside him, over him.  
  
The gentle submission _does something_ to Ren, makes his alpha side want to roar with victory. Hux is gorgeous when he's desperate, demanding, meeting him blow for blow, but he's also gorgeous like this, spread out, inviting Ren to take him, trusting him to make it good.  
  
Despite coming less than an hour ago, Ren's orgasm is already creeping up on him, and he forces himself not to rush, not to reach for it. He lets it build like a wave, sweeping him along with its mounting pressure until it finally peaks, breaks, tumbles through him, leaving him breathless.  
  
“Oh, _yes_ ,” Hux sighs, as Ren's come douses the simmering fire inside him. He hasn't knotted him this time, which wasn't really a conscious decision – he definitely needs to work on controlling that aspect of his anatomy – but Hux doesn't seem to mind, his body content that Ren's given him more seed.  
  
Once his aftershocks have finished, and he's stopped panting, Ren slides out. Hux is so satiated that it's a while before it occurs to Ren that the man didn't come. His little cock is only half-hard against his thigh, and closer inspection of his thoughts reveals he doesn't _need_ to – that wasn't the goal for him, this time.  
  
Ren lies down on his side, propped up on one elbow so he can watch Hux. He's brushing fingertips aimlessly over his chest and belly, needing to keep some physical contact with his omega, when something occurs to him.  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Hux opens one eye, bracing himself for whatever unflattering observation Ren's going to come out with. “What, Ren?”  
  
“You like _not_ giving me orders. That's new.”  
  
Hux smirks. “Close. I like you doing what I want. That's the real novelty here. And besides, I don't _like_ trying to order you around – it's frustrating and inefficient.” He means because Ren never obeys him anyway.  
  
“I'm not your subordinate, _General_.”  
  
“Oh, I'm painfully aware of that, _Lord Ren_. If only you could act with the intelligence and restraint required of my co-commander, I wouldn't have to treat you like one.”  
  
This is a familiar argument, repeated often and with varying levels of heat and property damage. This time, Hux is just teasing, trying to wind him up for pointing out that he enjoys Ren's consideration.  
  
“It wouldn't matter if I had infinite patience and politeness,” Ren counters. “You're so full of yourself, so ignorantly certain you're right that you never listen anyway.”  
  
“Of course I don't – your input is always vague mutterings about the Force.”  
  
Ren opens his mouth to say Hux should take the Force seriously, but the words die on his tongue.  
  
Hux pauses, looking up at him quizzically. “This is usually the part where you destroy something and storm off,” he prompts.  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
Hux is frowning now, not sure what's going on. Ren draws a circle on his hip with a gentle fingertip.  
  
“Hux, you know I'm completely under your control, don't you? Right now I'd do anything you asked, anything you ordered.” He's saying it partly because it's thrown him for a loop, how strongly Hux's hormones are affecting him, and partly because he suspects Hux will get off on it.  
  
Hux snorts, but it's affectionate. “I know. It's a crying shame I can't do anything with that power except have you fuck me.” The wistful tone is put-on, but Hux genuinely isn't plotting anything, Ren realises with relief.  
  
He is absolutely certain that if Hux told him to, he'd get on his knees and beg, he'd kiss Hux's feet, he'd suck him for _hours_ just to be allowed to serve him, to bury his cock in that lovely, tight passage. But Hux has no intention of stringing him out. He just wants his heat to be over as soon as possible.  
  
It's... nice of him to reassure Ren, though, rather than being an ass about it. That's pretty novel too – Hux not taking an opportunity to be an ass. He wasn’t spiteful or mocking before, either, when Ren admitted he'd never served an omega…  
  
“Speaking of fucking me,” says Hux, stretching, shifting under Ren's hand.  
  
Ren's eyes are drawn down the lines of him to his crotch, where his cock is standing to full attention in its nest of ginger curls. “Already?”  
  
“Don't act surprised – you've been touching and stroking me this whole time.”  
  
Ren huffs a laugh, smoothing his hand over Hux's belly, teasing the trail of hair that leads down from his navel. Hux is far from muscular, but he's more toned than he'd expected. Officers have exercise and training programmes too, he remembers, dimly. He can't stop his fingertips sliding over the pale, freckled skin, like he's in a trance.  
  
A burst of inspiration strikes him, and before he can rethink, he scoots down Hux's body, breathing hot over his twitching erection. Their eyes meet, anticipation turning the air electric. This is something else, something beyond the scope of what's necessary for the heat. Ren isn't sure he could explain _why_ he wants to try it, but now the idea has taken root, he very much does.  
  
“You don't have to…” Hux whispers.  
  
“Can I, though?”  
  
“If you admit it's because you can't keep up with me and you need a break.”  
  
Ren dips his head, licking all the way up Hux's cock – deliberately not answering the question. Hux's laugh morphs into a moan, and his head lolls back, thighs parting to give Ren more room.  
  
His cock is small – most male omega are – and Ren can capture the whole thing in his mouth with ease. The _noises_ Hux makes when he does that, when he swirls his tongue around the length of it, are wonderful. He fights down a grin, keeping his lips tight around Hux's cock, settling into a slow, bobbing rhythm.  
  
He's breathing through his nose, and this close to the source, the smell of Hux's slick is maddening. It's different to the scent from his glands, more… raw? If his heat scent demands protection and provision and _pleasure_ , then his slick just demands _sex_ , pure and simple, and Ren's cock is dutifully filling as he works Hux over.  
  
He pulls off, sucking gently, pressing a kiss to the weeping head before he swallows Hux down again. One arm is slung across the man's hips, to stop his feeble attempts at bucking up, at chasing the heat of Ren's mouth. Hux's hands are clawing at the mattress.  
  
_<_ _Go on_ > he murmurs, sending Hux an image of himself gripping Ren's hair. Hux jumps, not used to Ren speaking to him in his head, but he complies eagerly, fingers tugging at the long, dark strands.  
  
“That's a useful ability, when your mouth is occupied,” he chuckles. Ren swirls his tongue again, the opposite way, and Hux gasps. “Stars, you look amazing, he babbles, you _feel_ amazing.”  
  
Ren knows his technique is decidedly inexpert, so he concludes that Hux hasn't received many blowjobs in the past. Which is such a waste – Hux's little cock is so cute, and it's so _easy_ to overwhelm him by sucking it.  
  
Something catches his attention, in Hux's thoughts. He's picturing himself sat on Snoke's throne, with Ren submissive before him, eagerly suckling at his cock while Hux pets his hair and tells him what a good, obedient boy he is. Ren growls, eyes flicking up to find Hux grinning. A taunt. Fucker. Trust Hux to find a way to use Ren's mindreading against him.  
  
He drags his teeth very softly up Hux's cock, just a hint of a threat, and is surprised when Hux quivers with desire, arousal coiling in his balls. He's close. Ren tightens his lips, sucking a little harder, teasing with his tongue and Hux is so very, very _close_ , but it’s like he's stalling somehow, right on the edge.  
  
“Fuck,” he groans, squirming, “Ren, I _can't_! I can't come without something inside me, not during my heat.”  
  
After a few more agonising circles of his tongue, Ren takes pity on him, running a palm gently up the softest flesh of his inner thigh. Hux's moans change pitch as he approaches that wet, greedy hole, hips tilting to give him better access. He's soaked, so open, so desperate to be filled. Ren slides just one finger in, and Hux keens, demanding more. Another finger, as easy as the first, and he curls them up, feeling along his walls for—  
  
“Ahh!” Hux screams when he finds it, massaging the cluster of nerves with relentless pressure. He uses his thumb to rub the sensitive space just behind Hux's balls, already pulled up tight, and the man beneath him goes taut all over, body humming like a vibroblade as he erupts into Ren's mouth.  
  
“Ren!” he shouts, pulling too hard on his hair. “Ren! Yes, oh, _yes_!” That's the first time Hux has called his name when he climaxes, Ren notes, swallowing the salty mouthful of come. He wants him to do it every time.  
  
His cock is stiff and aching, it was even before he felt Hux's rush of pleasure, and he's been humping it against the bed basically since he started, craving friction. He's a hair's breadth from making a mess, which Hux abruptly realises.  
  
“Get up here, right now!” he barks. “Don't you _dare_ come anywhere except my ass.”  
  
Ren marshals the last of his self-control, crawling up Hux until he can slide home, pushing in deep. Hux is so slick and warm, his muscles contracting weakly in the aftermath of his orgasm, that it takes him exactly one stroke for his knot to pop, swelling inside Hux, locking him in place as he comes.  
  
“Oh, kriffing hell,” Hux, he whispers, burying his face in Hux's throat. “How is it better every time?”  
  
He's half expecting Hux to tell him it's a biological thing, meant to ensure alphas stay with their omega for their whole heat. But he doesn't, he just pushes a lock of hair back and traces Ren's ear with his fingertips.  
  
“You like them too?” Ren asks, smiling.  
  
Hux doesn't follow. “I like what and what?” he mumbles, wishing Ren would let him enjoy his afterglow in peace.  
  
“My ears, and my hair. They seem to be your favourite things to play with.”  
  
“Oh. Then yes, I do.” He pauses. “Do you mind?”  
  
Ren presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Of course not.”  
  
“Oh yeah, you're at my disposal, I remember.”  
  
The vibrations of Ren's chuckle go through them both.  
  
Hux isn't asleep, but he's close to dozing off again, under Ren's warm weight. Ren wonders whether this exhaustion is typical for a heat, or if he's still suffering the effects of their icy trek. He's just deciding to grab the packet of koyo fruit when Hux gives a long sigh.  
  
“I could rule the galaxy, with you,” he says, eyes half-closed. “If I really had you with me, your power at my command. I could fix everything...” He pats Ren's stunned face.  
  
Wow. He'd thought Hux was bold in his ambitions _before_ , when he was constantly trying to oust him from Snoke's favour.  
  
“You want to be Emperor?”  
  
Hux shrugs against the mattress. “It's an outdated title, but it would work. You could be my Hand.”  
  
Ren’s mouth quirks into a smile, and he turns to nibble the palm still patting his cheek. “Your hand?”  
  
“Yeah, my… Stars, do you not know _any_ history? What does the hell does the Republic even teach people?” Ren opens his mouth to say he was making a joke, but Hux is already groaning.  
  
“See, this is why they'll lose – they're arrogant, they ignore the lessons of the Empire. Two people can decide the course of a war, with the right combination of brains, strategy and power.” It's a bit rich for Hux to be calling anyone _else_ arrogant.  
  
“You're babbling, Emperor Hux,” Ren teases, even as he's tucking this whispered confession away in his heart. He doesn't quite know why it's important, but it's certainly the most private, secret thing Hux has ever given him.  
  
Hux chuckles at himself. “I wonder if you'll kill me for that, afterwards.” He's picturing Ren igniting his lightsaber, slicing Hux's head off with one clean stroke.  
  
Ren rears back, horrified. “What?!” He'd never— He _couldn't_ —  
  
Hux's eyes go wide. “Ah, sorry! I know the idea is abhorrent now. Shouldn't have mentioned it.”  
  
Ren hugs Hux tighter, fighting down his heaving stomach. He's shaking, and he can feel Hux's alarm at his violent reaction.  
  
“Hey, hey, I'll stop thinking about it, okay? I'm fine – you aren't going to hurt me, alpha,” he murmurs, stroking Ren's shoulders.  
  
As some of the nausea and horror recedes, Ren recognises the soothing tone omega can use, one step below their purr. Well, he can chalk that up as another omega thing he's now experienced. Hux's voice grounds him immediately, chasing away the shadow of his imagined murder.  
  
“We agreed not to hold anything that happens during this episode against each other,” Ren gasps. “How many times do I have to remind you?”  
  
Beneath him, Hux's body goes very still, but his brain does the opposite.  
  
_They made a pact… but Ren hasn't served an omega before. And he's violent, has no control of his emotions or impulses. And he hates Hux. And he can read his mind…_  
  
Ren almost _can't_ , right then – it's bouncing frantically between bits of information, tying them together like he's weaving a net to trap himself in.  
  
_They made a pact, but_ …  
  
“You can't make that promise,” Hux whispers, distraught.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That was your alpha side talking. You were just trying to reassure me, to give me what I needed in the moment, because you could _tell_ how uncomfortable I was.”  
  
“You're pretty uncomfortable _now_ ,” says Ren, with growing unease.  
  
“Because I'm a fool who signed his own execution order,” he snaps. This time he's recalling the blind terror of Ren cutting off his air, squeezing his throat in a vice. It's more visceral than the beheading – more rooted in experience.  
  
“Hux, explain,” Ren gasps, desperate to distract him. “I don't understand.” It comes out somewhere between an order and a plea. Hux's eyes are full of fear and self-chastisement, when they meet Ren's.  
  
“Of course you don't understand. You've never served an omega before. The scent – my scent – it messes with your hormones, it turns you into someone you're not, but you _turn back_. Afterwards, you're going to be exactly as unstable and childish and belligerent as you always are, and you'll _despise_ me for putting you through this. For making you soft.”  
  
Ren wants to protest Hux's characterisation of him, but right now he's struggling with the idea of _ever_ hurting the man. Even if he tries to project into the future, he can't imagine getting angry enough to Force-choke Hux without remembering the clinging warmth inside him, or his soft, grateful expression as he fell asleep beneath him.  
  
But Hux can. He can imagine it vividly enough to send Ren's stomach rolling again.  
  
“Hux, stop it. I'm not going to kill you.”  
  
“You don't _think_ you will, now, but that's your alpha brain talking. You haven't had enough practice at separating the two, not while you're under the influence of an omega.”  
  
And isn't that the perfect truth? Isn't that the whole reason they're here?  
  
He stares down at Hux. “You _have_ , haven't you? It's like you've got two different thought processes running at once.” Right now the one in control, the one panicking, is Hux's 'normal' consciousness. His omega urges are still present, but he's suppressing them.  
  
“Yeah, Ren. I've been served by a lot of different alphas, I know what it's like – for them and for me.” That doesn't quite chime with what he'd said previously, about not having had a heat for years. But now there are fragments of memories surfacing in Hux's mind, things Ren's only catching glimpses of...  
  
Ren shakes his head, as if he can toss those memories out before they form. “You haven't had _me_ ,” he insists.  
  
Hux snarls at him. “Don't start thinking you're special. You're responding like any other alpha, just with the added benefit – or drawback – of your mindreading abilities.” Being compared to Hux's previous heat-partners makes his hackles rise, but he has to explore this. He has to understand his omega's fear so he can assuage it, and its roots go far deeper than just Ren.  
  
“I didn't mean I'm different,” he says, although he did. “I just… Why are you so convinced I won't keep my word, that I won't be _able_ to go back to normal and pretend nothing happened here?”  
  
Hux grits his teeth. “You really want to go into this? You want my past encounters dredged up for examination?”  
  
“I don't,” Ren admits. “But you're right – I know pathetically little about heats. All I _do_ know is that I can't stand you being this scared of me for the rest of it. Please, Hux, at least help me understand.” Hux is wavering now. Telling him that he's right and Ren's wrong remains a surefire way to encourage cooperation.  
  
“Kriffing— fine,” he mutters. “Fine. You might as well have all my emotional baggage at this point. Just, get out of me first?” They're still tied together, but Ren's knot has started deflating, so he can pull out with no more than a wince from Hux.  
  
The man arranges the sacrificial blanket underneath him, sitting cross-legged on it. Ren almost reaches for him, wanting to settle him against his side. 'Not touching' is too far apart, but Hux needs some space, and physical contact makes it more difficult to think around his omega urges. Ren passes him another blanket, watching wistfully as he drapes it around himself, hiding his body from sight.  
  
They sit at opposite ends of the bed, waiting for Hux to decide how to begin.  
  
“What have you picked up already?” he says eventually. “About my… past encounters.”  
  
“Nothing, I think? You don't allow the memories to come to the surface much, like you've dismissed them.” Hux is relieved about that, but also faintly disappointed that he _does_ have to explain everything.  
  
“I know it must have been a while ago,” Ren carries on. “You said you haven't even _had_ a heat for three years, never mind having someone serve you. And therefore I'm willing to bet your past partners have a lot to do with your overall dislike of heats.”  
  
Hux nods. “Solid deduction.” He picks at a loose thread in the blanket, steeling himself, checking he can keep his voice impassive.  
  
“I went to a First Order academy, for training officers, from the age of ten.” And just like that, Ren has a decent idea where this is going.  
  
Hux struggles for the next bit, unable to choose the right words, glancing up at Ren like he can help somehow and, no, they _are_ too far apart, they both realise at the same moment.  
  
“Here,” says Ren, turning his back to Hux. “Lean on me.” Like they did in the cave. Hux shuffles forward, gratefully slumping against Ren. That'll do. They're touching, but in the least suggestive way possible. It's easier for Hux too – he doesn't really want to see Ren's reactions, thinks his face is too expressive.  
  
He clears his throat. “Most of the cadets were male, so mostly alphas or betas. Once I presented, I was the only omega in my cohort. Only one in the academy, for a while.” Ren suppresses a shiver. It's like watching a door to a dark and sinister place being dragged open. He wants to yell at Hux to shut it, to stay with him, here, now.  
  
“The Order gives future officers a thorough education on human biology, including secondary gender – it has major implications for how we manage and interact with people, after all.” He swallows.  
  
“The policy was to have alphas serve the omegas for their heats. So that they'd understand what it's like, how much of your reasoning you lose, why it's important not to underestimate pheromones and hormones.”  
  
Hux is recalling when the instructors had formally told the class this, a couple of days after Hux presented. Ren can feel the sinking horror as young Hux realised what was going to happen to him – but he's still talking like it was impersonal. The academy was very careful to make it sound that way. As if it were just bad luck that Hux was the only omega.  
  
“They used you,” Ren can't keep the growl out of his voice. 'Used' is the most neutral word he can muster, to describe this.  
  
Hux's shoulder blades dig into him as the man shrugs. “It was an efficient way to accomplish that kind of training. Making the best use of available assets. There was a rota, so they all got a turn. Anyone who presented alpha got added to it.”  
  
Ren's brain snags on that. _There was a rota_. His fists are clenched, knuckles white.  
  
And then something worse occurs to him. He's using Hux the same way. _Exactly_ the same way. And now he has to sit and listen to Hux describe the trauma it caused him. Fuck.  
  
“My first heat, I didn't have a clue what was going on, what was happening to me. I'd never considered that I might be an omega, so I knew basically as much as _you_ did. The alpha who served me was… boorish. Overconfident, too rough. He kept blathering on about how much I _needed_ his cock. And he was right – I was desperate for it. It wasn't until the heat was over that I could marshal my objections properly.”  
  
Hux takes a deep, shaky breath. “Afterwards, he didn't speak to me or even look at me for months. That didn't seem like a bad outcome to me. I wasn't… well-liked.”  
  
“Of course you weren't,” Ren chips in, so, so glad when Hux elbows him. He attributes his classmates' dislike to jealousy over his exceptional ability and the perceived influence of his high-ranking father, rather than his abrasive personality.  
  
“It was standard stuff – snide comments, mockery, being left out or ignored.” His offhand tone can't hide the loneliness underneath, not from Ren.  
  
“Naturally, the worst of my bullies was an alpha. When it was his turn, he was preening about getting me on my knees, making me beg for him. But during the actual heat – it was maybe my third? – he was… sweet. He praised me, told me I was precious and he'd look after me, that we could make a powerful team. And I believed him. I deliriously thought maybe I could use my heats to engender affection in my rivals, or at least reduce their animosity.”  
  
He shakes his head, sneering at his past-self, as if he should have already possessed the knowledge and mental fortifications he has now.  
  
“Barely a day later, the boy was exactly the same as he'd always been. Except he hated me _worse_ , for making him spout all that rubbish. He knew however much he blustered and pretended he'd been joking, however many friends he had to back him up, I knew the truth, and he resented that.” Hux stops.  
  
Even to make his point, he doesn't want to dredge up what happened next, but Ren can already feel bone snapping, an ugly pain shooting down his arm. Combat training. Hostility disguised. Obviously an accident, to the instructors.  
  
Ren's chest is very tight. Hux thinks he's the same as these ignorant, vicious _children_ , and it makes him bristle, to be lumped in with a common bully.  
  
“What did you do?” he asks. He means 'how did you cope?', but phrasing it that way would be insulting. And knowing Hux, he might have engineered a covert assassination or something, and Ren wants a heads-up if that's a possibility.  
  
Hux is quiet for another long moment. “I just… bore it. Complaining would have been ineffective; revenge risked escalation. Sometimes it's smarter to let people think your opponent has won.”  
  
If he could have lashed out with the kind of destructive power Ren has, maybe he wouldn't have learned to contain his anger until it's useful. Maybe that's why Ren hasn't.  
  
“I became silent, impassive. I would let my scent force them to satisfy my heat. There was a perverse enjoyment in watching swaggering alphas realise why the verb we use is 'serve'.” Ren imagines having Hux's flat, ice-chip eyes just watch him as he strains towards orgasm – bored, unimpressed, blank.  
  
“You aren't like that with me,” Ren murmurs, banishing the idea, deliberately recalling how wonderful it felt when Hux came screaming his name.  
  
“Well. I'm out of practice,” Hux sniffs. That's only half bluster. True, it's been at least three years since he had to keep his icy persona from melting during a heat, but he's aware that he didn't really _try_. He gave up on being obstinate or cruel as soon as Ren proposed that truce, blindly grateful for the excuse.  
  
“And anyway,” he says, trying to justify his weakness, “I doubt lying here like a dead gooberfish would be very effective, given you're so thoroughly in my head.”  
  
“I'm still glad you aren't, y'know, restraining yourself,” says Ren quietly. “How 'out of practice' are you? How long has it been, since you had an alpha?”  
  
“I haven't, since I graduated. I got myself heat suppressors and scent blockers during my first post, and I've been using them ever since. I had one heat a year to keep the medical staff off my back, while I was still climbing the ranks, but I never asked anyone to serve me.” He was determined not to give anyone else the satisfaction of seeing him so vulnerable.  
  
“Isn't it frustrating?” Ruts are, on your own. Hux's mind flits to a surprisingly varied collection of sex toys that he loves because they represent freedom from needing an alpha, and hates because none of them feel anywhere near as satisfying.  
  
“It is,” he agrees. “But even so, I should have kept having heats, even after I was promoted. I knew all the risks of not allowing your body to cycle through its hormones.” It was like his own private, unconscious rebellion against everything the academy taught him, Ren realises.  
  
Behind him, Hux sighs. He wants to apologise, for dragging Ren into this, but he knows it won't make a difference. It won't be enough to alleviate Ren's anger and disgust. For an instant, Ren is about to tell him that this isn't entirely his fault, that Snoke _intended_ him to go into heat as part of Ren's training. But he can't. That kind of reminder would likely tip the man into a full-blown breakdown.  
  
“So,” says Hux briskly, and too late Ren notices he didn't respond to Hux's last comment, and he's assumed Ren _does_ blame him for their current predicament. “So. That's how I learned that if you get served by an alpha who dislikes you, they're going to dislike you _more_ , not less, afterwards.”  
  
He's trying to draw a line under the whole pitiful story, to shove his memories back down where they can't get him. Unfortunately, that leaves him to focus on his current predicament – being served by an alpha who was one wrong move from destroying him _before_ his heat.  
  
“You really think I'm going to kill you for this? For what, the inconvenience or indignity of serving you? For idle power fantasies?”  
  
“Yes. Putting together my experience of other alphas, and my experience of your violent outbursts, it seems an exceptionally likely outcome.” Hux swallows. “I'm sure you can tell that the heat-addled, omega part of my brain is insisting you're the gentlest, most attentive alpha I've ever had and utterly rejects the idea of you hurting me. But omega brain is stupid, as I've said.”  
  
“You'd be having a better time if you listened to it,” Ren mutters. “Instead of fretting about death and making us both miserable.” That gets a weak laugh from Hux.  
  
Ren reaches back, tugging at Hux's blanket until he finds a hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing. It doesn't so much calm the man as puzzle him.  
  
“I don't think I'll hurt you, afterwards,” Ren says, and has to barrel on before Hux can interrupt. “ _But_ I can understand why you expect me to. I also don't think I can convince you that I _won't_ – you'll just insist you know better.” Hux cautiously agrees with him so far.  
  
“And obviously I'm not equipped to tackle trauma built up by however many years of sexual abuse.” Hux flinches. He's never allowed himself to call it that.  
  
“Seven years,” he says, voice almost inaudible.  
  
“Seven? Wait… How old were you?” asks Ren, because he's some kind of masochist. He doesn't want to know. The Hux that he'd caught glimpses of was scrawny, hadn't yet developed his current height or build—  
  
“Thirteen. I presented early.” Ren screws his eyes closed. He _didn't_ want to know. He'd discovered he was an alpha at nineteen, which is more average. Anyone who makes it to twenty-five unafflicted can be pretty sure they're a beta. But thirteen… Ren's jaw clenches, and the hand that isn't linked with Hux's curls into a fist.  
  
“Hux, we're not teenagers anymore.”  
  
Hux snorts. “You act like one, half the time.” He's viciously remembering the last console Ren carved up, shoving the image at him.  
  
Ren drops his head all the way back onto Hux's shoulder, looking up at the packed-snow ceiling. He's close to giving up. He doesn't want to. He wants Hux to go back to being relaxed and content and pliant in his arms.  
  
“Y'know, if you're so convinced I'm going to kill you, what else are you afraid of? The damage is done, right? It doesn't get worse than death.” He's not sure where this new line of reasoning came from, but he's gaining momentum with it.  
  
“If I'm not going to hurt you _now_ , during your heat, but I definitely am _later_ , then this is a perfect chance for you – you could unload every grievance you've ever had to bite off! Tell me everything I'd normally punish you for saying. Insult me, degrade me, _rage_ at me.”  
  
Hux levels a glare at the opposite wall. “If that's your kink, you could've asked me anytime. I've got plenty of material.”  
  
Ren chuckles. “Look at it like this – either you get to be right and I kill you, or _I'm_ right, I don't kill you, and you get to live. That's a win for you either way, cos you _love_ being right, especially when I'm proved wrong.”  
  
Hux twists round, ends up getting a faceful of Ren's hair. “You're completely insane,” he spits.  
  
“That's the spirit.”  
  
“This is the most ass-backwards logic I've ever heard.”  
  
“Good, good.”  
  
“Ren!” Hux pulls away so fast that Ren collapses flat on his back. He grabs Hux by the wrist, easily tugging the squirming man on top of him, trapping him in a tight hug.  
  
“Listen to your omega brain, Hux. Focus on _now_. Try to enjoy this. Let me make it good for you.” He never thought _he'd_ be trying to persuade someone to let go of their fear and anger.  
  
“There's no point in restraint or modesty or denying yourself anything right now. Don't worry about the future – you can't change it, after all.” This is a delicate balance. If he pushes too far, Hux will start _picturing_ Ren killing him, and that was unbearable.  
  
He rubs a thumb over the fluttering pulse in Hux's wrist, watching the frown between his eyebrows deepen, and then slowly vanish as he finally accepts that this _is_ a reasonable course of action, bonkers as it seems.  
  
“I'm going to die,” Hux says, trying the concept out. “So it doesn't matter. None of it.” He looks away from Ren's earnest gaze, struggling to reconcile who Ren was before the heat – who he'll be afterwards – with who he is _now_.  
  
“Fine. I'll try.” As if to cement the decision, Hux leans down, biting Ren's earlobe hard enough to send a little flash of pain through him.  
  
“Fuck me again,” he growls, and Ren's cock is immediately hard. “Keep me in the present.” Ren nearly says 'your wish is my command', but that's too close to what prompted this horrible diversion in the first place.  
  
He pulls Hux fully on top of him, planting his feet and angling his hips so Hux can slide down onto his cock. With a tortured groan, he wraps his arms around Hux's back, holding him in place as he starts to fuck into that welcoming heat.  
  
Hux is panting, puffs of breath tickling his throat, and Ren tilts his head, giving him better access, hearing his omega's joy as he nuzzles Ren's scent glands. He licks a stripe up the skin, ending at his ear, nibbling it again in that not-enough-too-much way that makes Ren groan.  
  
“Harder,” Hux purrs, delighted when Ren begins pistoning in and out of him, losing any pretence of moderation, slamming his cock home in urgent strokes.  
  
“You feel so beautiful, Hux,” he gasps. “So soft, so tight, so– Oh, fuck!”  
  
“Close?”  
  
Somehow he _is_ , already, despite the horrors he recently witnessed in Hux's mind. Hux glories in it, in feeling his alpha straining for him, desperate to satisfy him.  
  
“Come with me this time, please?” Hux hums in feigned consideration, but he's already slipping a hand between their bodies to palm his cock, passage tightening around Ren at the bolt of sensation.  
  
It's rushed, it's rough, it's sex to banish everything else, and it's fucking _spectacular_ when they both reach their peak, gasping open-mouthed against the other's skin, pleasure colliding in a hot, bright burst that sends shockwaves through them.  
  
“Ren!” Hux sobs, lost to it, and Ren is glad he can't see the massive grin that's splitting his face because Hux called his name. Again. He strokes Hux's back, breathing with him as they calm down.  
  
His cock slips out, drawing a displeased grunt from Hux, and he rolls them over, laying Hux on his side. He looks so pretty when he's fucked out, cheeks pink, hair dishevelled, like all his sharp edges have worn away.  
  
Ren slips one arm over the side of the bed, fumbling until he finds their penultimate ration bar.  
  
“Here.”  
  
“I'm not hungry.” He is.  
  
“Save it for someone who can't tell,” says Ren. “All you've eaten today is a koyo fruit.”  
  
Hux frowns. “Same as you.”  
  
“I had like five.” He's a bit shocked when Hux relents without further protest, grabbing the bar off him and peeling it open. He snaps it roughly in half, handing Ren the smaller piece, daring him to object to this compromise.  
  
They munch the bland, dense food in silence, until Hux says, “I'm going to be livid, if my last meal is this stuff.”  
  
Ren nearly chokes on his mouthful, laughter making crumbs go down the wrong way, and Hux has to slap him. Has Hux always been funny, but just so antagonistic with it that Ren never noticed? _Was_ that funny, or is it just the heat making him think so?  
  
He discards the question when he realises that he needs to do something about their food situation before Hux starts worrying about it. He carefully extracts the arm that's trapped under Hux, but the man groans, clutching at him.  
  
“I'm just going to find more supplies,” Ren assures him, stroking his mussed up hair. And vent his frustration before he explodes, but Hux doesn't need that information.  
  
With palpable reluctance, Hux allows him to leave the bed. It takes him a while to locate his discarded clothes – he'd flung them every which way in his haste to remove them yesterday. They're all filthy, and he grimaces at the smell of dried sweat and slick as he pulls them on.  
  
“Wait, Ren,” says Hux suddenly, pushing himself up on shaky arms. “Give me your cape.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“The smell – it helps.” Ren shucks his cowl, tossing it to Hux. The man immediately wraps himself up in it, like a cocoon, burying his nose in the fabric. It's… endearing. Nothing about Hux has ever been endearing, Ren reminds himself.  
  
“Call me, if you need me back,” he says awkwardly. “I'll probably know anyway, but… yeah.”  
  
Hux frowns at him. “What do you mean 'call me'?” They don't have comlinks.  
  
_< Like this>_ Ren sends him.  
  
“Oh. Then–” _< Can you hear me?>_  
  
Ren makes a show of wincing. _< You don't have to shout>_  
  
“I wasn't shouting.” He pauses. “Was I?”  
  
Ren ruffles his hair again, just to make his eyes narrow into a glare. “You weren't. I was kidding.”  
  
“Asshole,” Hux mutters, ducking further into Ren's cowl.  
  
Ren checks he isn't looking, then grabs his lightsaber, heading for the door. He's bracing himself, aware that not being able to see Hux hurt _a lot_ earlier. It's considerably easier to bear this time – the obvious difference is that he knows where Hux is now, that he's safe and comfortable and not in immediate need of him. But it's still difficult to close the door. There's an ache inside him, right under his sternum, that feels like it's trying to draw him back to his omega.  
  
_< I suppose>_ he hears, as he pads down the tunnel toward the freshers, _< I suppose these are effectively_ hyper- _conscious thoughts, in your levels system? >_  
  
Hux is feeling that ache too, reaching out to reassure himself that his alpha is still there.  
  
_< I usually call them 'projected' thoughts – cos you're projecting them for someone else to hear.>_ Hux realises that they've done this a couple of times already, where he's thought things _at_ Ren – he just hadn't really understood what it was.  
  
_< Huh. I do that a lot, when you're pissing me off – mentally yell at you. Does that mean you hear it? I always kind of hoped you could...>_  
  
Ren grins despite himself. _< Only if I'm listening>_  
  
_< Ah, well, you never listen to me>_  
  
He sends Hux the impression of his mirth, and their connection lapses into comfortable quiet.  
  
Ren relieves himself, and melts some snow in a basin to rinse the most important body parts. He doesn't look at himself in the mirror, knowing his face is contorting into a snarl. There's a packet of dental hygiene gum resting on the side – Hux probably used that earlier. He chews a piece while popping open some of the lockers, finding a comb hidden at the back. When he's untangled the worst knots in his hair, tugging in his impatience, he slips the comb into a pocket and makes for the canteen.  
  
The anger simmering inside him is getting harder and harder to contain. He turns the canteen's storage crates over with trembling hands, managing to sift through the icy remnants and round up a small collection of intact ration bars, another packet of dried something (yellow this time, so not koyo fruit), and some kind of insta-heat meals that will probably explode in his hands if he tries to warm them.  
  
As soon as he's found enough for the rest of the heat, the rage boils over, ripping through him. Providing for Hux was the only thing allowing him to cling to sanity, it seems. With that taken care of, he's gone.  
  
He _is_ getting more adept at controlling his anger, not that Hux would agree, but the power of this particular wave is shocking, and he's maniacally glad he brought his saber with him. He ignites it, vision tunneling, cutting a swathe through the overturned tables and benches.  
  
“He was thirteen!” he roars. “Thirteen!” All he can see is Hux – skinny, gangly, face already pinched into a sneer as he tries to pretend that what's happening to him is purely biological, that he doesn't _feel_ anything.  
  
“He should have had someone kind!” No, scratch that – he shouldn't have had _anyone_ he didn't choose. Ren knows it's his soft Republic upbringing showing through, but forcing an omega to share their heat without their informed, and ideally enthusiastic consent, is horrific.  
  
He's furious at the instructors, at the alpha cadets, for unthinking cruelty and deliberate malice. He pictures the faces from Hux's memories assembled here, in this canteen, and cuts them all down in jagged red arcs.  
  
He's furious at _Snoke_ for putting Hux through the same thing again, for making Ren be the one to do it. He knew Hux's secondary gender, he could have known about his past, about his aversion to heats. He could have put them in this position to train Ren _and_ to punish Hux for Starkiller's fiery demise.  
  
Ben was thirteen when Snoke first started speaking to him. Irritable, awkward, unsure why people were always wary of him. Most of the time Ren's grateful to Snoke, for helping him understand his true potential and see through those who would quash it, but right now, with his mind consumed by rage, he wonders what both he and Hux would have been like, if they'd had the chance to be normal teenagers. Or as normal as a Force user and a First Order cadet could ever have been.  
  
He wouldn't be as strong now, wouldn't be better off, but even _starting_ to imagine a life without Snoke is very nearly treasonous. Stars, he needs to pull himself together. The realisation that he should have better control of his thoughts breaks him out of his rage, and he stops, panting, wondering why he's covered in snow.  
  
Oh, he pulled down part of the ceiling, probably nearly buried himself. He brushes snow off his tunic and hair. Something crunches underfoot – a bit of table? The canteen is nothing but snow and splinters, and there are deep gouges in the walls from his saber.  
  
Could be a lot worse. He managed to keep the cyclone of destruction down at the seating end – his pile of provisions is unharmed. He flicks the saber off, and the room returns to darkness. Well, except there's now a few pinpricks of fading daylight coming in from the collapsed ceiling.  
  
He feels a hand on his shoulder, knows from the grip that it's Han. He shrugs it off. His family don't understand. Didn't understand.  
  
“You should have noticed,” he says to the ghost-vision-memory.  
  
_< I know>_  
  
Something in a corner catching his eye. A jar? He calls it to him, turning it over to read the label. Insta-caf. The granules inside rattle, so no moisture has got in – might still be drinkable. He can't recall whether Hux drinks caf – he was never paying enough attention – but he scoops it up with the rest of his haul, plus a dented metal mug, and heads back towards their nest.  
  
It's a relief to see Hux – it's easier to ignore the ghosts of the past when he's focused on his omega. He was curled up, facing the wall, still wrapped in Ren's cowl, but he uncurls as soon as Ren enters, rolling over to confirm it's him. And then he gets annoyed with himself for being so transparently needy.  
  
“I missed you too,” says Ren.  
  
Hux is, a little spitefully, remembering the weight of Ren's panic, when he'd woken to find Hux gone. “You did,” he agrees. Ren rolls his eyes, putting the pile of food down by the bed, and stripping off his clothes.  
  
“Please tell me you didn't destroy anything that could help us get out of here?” Ren freezes, with his tunic over his head.  
  
“You… felt that?” Shit. He'd thought he had the rage contained in his own head.  
  
“Felt what? I just heard some muffled crashing and thumping. You destroyed _something_ , either in a tantrum or an accident.” Ren wants to object to the word 'tantrum', but he's too relieved that Hux didn't sense his anger, or the reason behind it. He will clam up if Ren expresses pity, Ren is absolutely certain.  
  
“If we wanted to host a fancy dinner party, we'd be short on seating, that's all.”  
  
Hux's mouth twitches. “Did you find any food worthy of a fancy dinner party?”  
  
“Solid nope. But hey, more ration bars.” He waves one at Hux, who groans. “Oh, I found this as well.”  
  
The jar of caf is interesting enough to get Hux to sit up, grabbing it eagerly. “Thank the merciful stars there is caf on _Hoth_.”  
  
“You like that stuff?”  
  
“I barely function without it. On slow shifts, I need five cups to avoid falling asleep at my desk.” He's exaggerating – no way would Hux permit himself a chemical dependency like that – but it's a well-worn lie, one he tells people automatically, to make him seem more relatable.  
  
He does actually want some though, so Ren passes him the mug without comment. Hux shakes caf into it, adding a little water and swirling until the granules dissolve, then topping it up.  
  
“Could you?” Ren holds it between both hands, channeling energy to heat it. He's never liked caf, it tastes artificial to him, especially the cheap stuff that's available on spaceships and in grotty cantinas.  
  
Hux takes the mug back, about to take a sip when the extreme heat of it registers, and he drops it with a yelp. Ren only just manages to catch it with the Force before it spills.  
  
“Too hot?” he asks, alarmed. Caf is _meant_ to be hot, right?  
  
“Yeah, just a bit,” says Hux, through gritted teeth. He leans over, pressing his hand to the closest snow-wall, letting the cold chase off the heat of the burn. Ren sits there, feeling stunned, helpless. He's hurt his omega…  
  
“You weren't kidding about boiling or burning me, were you?” says Hux, trying to snap him out of it, thinking about the pair of them shivering in that cave, barely able to be civil to each other. He waggles his fingers at Ren, showing him there's no harm done. Ren relaxes minutely.  
  
“I'm glad we found a more _enjoyable_ way to warm you up,” he murmurs. He captures Hux's hand, drawing it to his mouth and pressing a careful kiss to each fingertip.  
  
Hux's eyes go wide, a powerful surge of arousal racing through him. The gesture is so tender, so apologetic, and Ren's lips are plush and full – they looked _wonderful_ around his cock, they feel _soft_ against his fingertips and he suddenly, desperately wants Ren to kiss him.  
  
He yanks his hand back, face flushed. They're staring at each other in shock. Hux has never wanted to be kissed during a heat before. His thoughts are back-peddling madly, trying to insist that he didn't mean it, that it was just a lapse in control.  
  
“Hux, it's fine,” says Ren. “I can tell. I won't.”  
  
The man sags, rubbing his eyes. “Kriff, that was weird.”  
  
“Sorry for making it too hot,” says Ren lamely.  
  
“Sorry for not using the handle to hold it,” Hux retorts. Have they ever apologised like this, calmly and sensibly, both owning their share of the blame? It feels new.  
  
Hux pushes his hair back, giving Ren a half-smile. “Come on, fuck me again – if we're quick, the caf should be drinking temperature by the time we're done.”  
  
He rolls onto his hands and knees, and Ren goes with him, cock needing only a few strokes to reach full hardness, and then he's slipping gratefully back inside Hux, taking him fast and rough and urgent.  
  
He can tell Hux chose this position to reduce the temptation of kissing, but that's fine. He's not sure he'd have been able to resist, if Hux had thought about it again.  
  
Afterwards, he makes Hux split another ration bar with him, and Hux makes him try the caf, chuckling when he pulls a face at the bitter, chemical taste. It's been an exhausting day, physically and emotionally, and he falls into an uncommonly deep sleep, flat on his back, with Hux curled into his side.

* * *

He only wakes up when Hux has slid all the way down his cock. He blinks up at the man straddling him.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Hux murmurs. “I can manage this one.” Ren huffs a laugh, reaching up to brush some hair back from his face.  
  
“Take what you need, omega.” Hux turns his head to nuzzle Ren's palm, uninhibited in the too early hours of the morning, and starts to move, riding him in long, slow motions.  
  
Ren lets himself relax, dozing as pleasure coils languidly in his belly. He wants to watch Hux – he's so beautiful like this – but he can't keep his eyes open.  
  
When Hux comes with a soft sigh, the echoes of it tug him over the edge as well, and almost as soon as his orgasm has left him, his mind goes blank, sleep reclaiming him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't find a physical description of [koyo fruit (wookieepedia link)](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Koyo_\(tree\)), so I decided they're red...
> 
> Please let me know if I've missed any tags I should include, particularly re. poor Hux's past.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some discussion of mpreg towards the end of this chapter.

Hux comes awake slowly. Ren can feel his eyelashes flutter, where he's pressed against his chest.

“Morning,” Ren murmurs.

Hux is about to ask whether it really _is_ morning, before he remembers that they have no way of knowing, and it doesn't matter anyway. The light doesn't change, in their little nest.

Hux half-rolls over, a movement above him catching his attention. Ren's picked up a dozen different objects, of varying size and shape, and is making them swirl around in a lazy but complex dance.

“You're… juggling?”

“I got bored.” Hux's snort contains a kind of knee-jerk petulance that an alpha could be _bored_ during his heat. He's watching the objects with mild interest, trying to figure out if there's a pattern, or if the movements are random.

It occurs to him that Ren picked a way to relieve his boredom that didn't involve leaving the bed. He appreciates that. He likes waking up with Ren still next to him, still holding him.

Ren releases the lightest of the objects, just as it floats over Hux, and it smacks him on the forehead.

“Oww,” he mutters, against Ren's shaking chest. Hux inspects the object – a ration bar – fingers clenching when Ren tries to Force-pull it away. “No, screw you, I'm hungry.”

Ren knows. That's exactly why he dropped it. Hux peels the wrapper open and takes a big bite.

“I didn't know you had such delicate control,” he says, mouth full. Hux has mostly seen Ren pull and shove things around, some mild levitation maybe.

“I'm practicing,” he says, surprising himself with his honesty. “The more objects, the more movement, the harder it is to make sure they don't collide.”

Why is he telling Hux this? That was the perfect opportunity to remind him how little he understands about the Force. Case in point, Hux is watching the swirling objects like he's trying to spot invisible strings on them or something. There's an empty water jug, a couple of blankets, a small storage crate, all four of their boots, Ren's lightsaber hilt, and–

“Is that my blaster?” Hux remembers shooting the wampa with it, but nothing after that. “Did you put the safety back on?”

Ren goes still, as does the blaster. In the silence, there's a tiny click. And then Hux bursts out laughing, shaking next to him, like the absurdity of their situation finally broke him.

He's thinking how strange it is for Ren to be playful. He'd assumed that the Force wasn't to be used for frivolous amusement. Ren is about to reiterate that this is perfectly legitimate practice, when Hux leans over him, eyes glinting.

“Think you could keep them all up there while you fuck me?” He nearly drops a few just in shock.

What Hux _actually_ wants is to suck him off, to tease his ample cock with his lips and tongue and teeth and see if he can make Ren lose control of his powers that way, but his body requires Ren's cock somewhere else.

“That... could be a useful training exercise,” he allows. Hux sniggers, sliding a hand down Ren's chest, over the ridges of his abs, and finally wrapping it around his erection, gently at first.

He glances up at the objects as he strokes Ren. There's a slight stutter in their movement, as Ren suddenly realises this is the first time Hux has touched him like this, and he'd be very, very happy for him to continue.

“Ride me?”

Hux quirks an eyebrow. “No thanks. You might brain me with the crate.”

He does his best to project an image of them on their sides, Ren spooned up behind him, and Ren tugs him into position, cock slipping between Hux's slick thighs. Hux reaches back, curving his spine to make the head catch on his hole, and Ren presses in slowly. He can't get quite as deep from this angle, but he's still got plenty of length buried in Hux.

He stretches one arm out, so Hux can use his biceps as a pillow, the other hand skimming up and down his side, enjoying the smooth skin.

They're facing into the bunk chamber, so they both have a good view of the interweaving objects. Their movement had noticeably slowed, while they were arranging themselves, and Ren makes an effort to speed them up as he starts to thrust.

Hux misses the first time something clips the wall – his eyes had flickered closed because Ren brushed _that_ spot – but the second time, when the lightsaber hilt gets stuck in the packed snow, he dissolves into giggles.

Ren curses, finding it's tricky to tug it free while also maintaining everything else's momentum. He feels a quick flash of victory when it rejoins the circling paraphernalia – but the next moment the crate collides with the empty jug and the hollow 'bonk' sound it makes is very loud. Hux is nearly weeping, and Ren swats him, which just makes him laugh harder, and the laughter makes his muscles twitch and tighten around Ren, and _oh–_

He needs to stop letting the sensations from his cock distract him. He doesn't really _want_ to – only the threat of failing this challenge that Hux has set can make him try. For the first time, he leans in to the split between his alpha brain and his 'normal' one, leaving the alpha side in charge of thrusting into Hux, so he can focus on the levitation exercise.

It sort of works… He regains a little clarity, his sense of the Force sharpening, becoming more responsive, and he manages to bring the dance back up to its former level of complexity. This _is_ actually really good practice. He should have tried to do something like this before, instead of just letting himself get lost in the joy and pleasure of serving Hux.

The man in his arms squeezes his inner muscles, noting that only one of the floating objects quivers.

“Not bad,” he whispers. “Can you keep it up while you knot me?”

“Stop moving the goalposts,” Ren growls.

He grabs Hux's thigh, lifting it so he can push in a little deeper. It's maybe a mercy he won't last long. He woke up hard, a slave to Hux's scent even while the other man was asleep, and started picking up objects to distract from the urge to touch himself, aware that Hux would be furious if he 'wasted' a load.

He buries his face in Hux's copper hair, closing his eyes, relying on the Force to sense where everything is, and lets his body chase after release. He hasn't got any spare concentration to aim for Hux's prostate, or a spare hand to stroke him – he can pleasure the man afterwards, he can't expect everything at once. Ren is going to tie him, and then bring him off while he's impaled on his knot, and then maybe drop a boot on him, just to wipe the smugness out of Hux's mind.

As he gets close, he consciously prompts his alpha side towards it, sparking the now-familiar pressure in the base of his cock. It's delicious, the way Hux whimpers as it stretches his rim wider, demanding he accept it, and Ren moans like a wounded bantha when it finally pops, locking him inside Hux as he comes in a burst of bright, sharp pleasure.

“Yes! _Yes_ …” Hux hisses, tangling his fingers in Ren's outstretched hand as he feels the knot swelling inside him. It's such a perfect fit.  
  
While Ren’s climax is tailing off into tingles and shudders, Hux nudges him with a shoulder.

“Look,” he murmurs. Ren lifts his head, focusing back on the floating muddle of objects. Apparently he couldn't keep them all on separate paths – they've converged into one spiral, like a slow tornado in the middle of the chamber. Privately, Ren is going to count that as a success, as not bad for a first try.

“What are your ruts even _like_?” asks Hux, as Ren lowers his leg. “Do you end up flinging around everything that's not bolted down?”

Ren scowls, but he has, on several occasions, lashed out with the Force in the midst of his rut, unable to properly sate the urges driving him.

Hux chuckles, realising his silence means he can't deny it. “Ever given your partner a concussion?”

That's just rude, and Ren nips the back of Hux's neck in warning even as he imagines Hux beneath him, like this, when the need to claim and take and control is riding him, imagines Hux bowing to it, beautifully. He's sure he wouldn't hurt Hux, if he were there. Or rather, he wouldn't _damage_ him. He's got a suspicion that Hux would quite like being hurt, in the right way.

He curls his free hand around Hux's adorable little cock, pumping it leisurely. He could spend the entire half-hour that they're tied together bringing Hux to the edge and not letting him tip over, just to pay him back for being rude. Hux shivers like he might have heard that thought, pressing back against Ren's chest.

The knot pulses and Ren's fingers tighten. He'd want Hux _covered_ in his come, want him to drink it, swallow it, take it inside him until no one could doubt Ren's claim on him. He imagines painting him with stripes of white, imagines Hux's peeved expression as it lands on his face, imagines – _fuck_ – imagines Hux's tongue darting out to lick it up, despite himself.

The real and present Hux makes a choked off sound as Ren abruptly lets go, easing his hand between Hux's thighs, trailing it through his slick, and then stroking him again, wet and slippery. The smooth glide sends sparks through Hux, igniting the gentle, satiated pleasure of being stuffed full of Ren's come, transforming it into something primal and wonderful and blazing hot.

His body is undulating against Ren, trying to press forward into his hand and back onto his knot at the same time. Ren keeps his grip light, not giving him the pressure he needs, grinning when Hux starts to pant, turning his face to bite down on Ren's biceps.

“Would you have served _me_ , if our positions were reversed?” he asks suddenly.

It takes a moment for Hux to drag enough brainpower away from his impending orgasm to parse the question.

“You mean, if you'd gone into rut?” He frowns. “Irrelevant. We'd have died. We only survived this far because of your idiocy and your Force-powers. I don't have either of those advantages.”

Ren rubs his thumb over the head of Hux's cock, just to make him curse. “Not _here_ specifically. I mean… Would you have served me, if I needed you?”

“Ren. I wouldn't have even given you lube.”

“Harsh.”

Hux laughs, though it becomes a moan halfway through. “I'm not a nice person.”

“What about now?”

“You mean now I owe you for my sanity, my life and several mindbending orgasms?”

Ren's lips twitch. “Yeah.”

“Also irrelevant. You will have ended me long before your next rut.”

“What if I didn't?”

“Ren!” Hux barks, patience fraying. “What are you after here? Are you telling me that's how you expect me to repay you, for all this?”

“No–”

“Are you expecting me to say I _want_ to serve you?”

“No.” _Yes_.

“ _You_ won't want me to, Ren,” Hux carries on. “Even if the idea is appealing now. You still think I'm a scheming, sycophantic pencil-pusher who has no idea how little power he really wields, right?”

Ren opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He couldn't have articulated it better himself.

“You _also_ think I'm the most gorgeous, sexy, exquisite creature you've ever seen, but that part, that 'affection' or whatever it is, it’s all hormones.”

Ren is at a loss. He'd forgotten how affection feels, how it's so light it buoys you up. Even if it's fake, or hollow, or forced, it's the best thing he's felt for a long time. And Hux is sure it will vanish, that this will become a memory he won't even want to revisit.

“I… I don't _want_ to stop thinking that,” he whispers.

Hux sighs, defeated and a little sad. “That's the hormones too,” he says, gently. Ren feels utterly pathetic. “Like I said, you're not going to understand until afterwards, but what I'm saying _will_ make sense.”

He squeezes Ren's hand, wondering why it's always him who has to deal with Kylo Ren's emotional collapses. _Because you're the only one who dares to_ , he thinks, but privately.

They both watch the spiraling miscellany in silence. It's been a while since Ren put any concentration into it, but everything is still floating, albeit sort of drooping, like a reflection of Ren's mental state.

“Put them down,” Hux says, decisive, “I want you focused on me. If I can keep myself in the present, you can too. Nothing that the future holds – for either of us – is worth worrying about until my heat ends.” Ren recognises the line he'd fed Hux yesterday, to get him to calm down.

He takes a deep breath against the back of Hux's neck, inhaling his scent, letting it comfort him as he directs the various objects back to their former places. Hux is mildly surprised – having seen the disarray in Ren quarters once or twice, he was expecting him to just drop everything.

“Come on, bring me off,” he says, voice sultry. If they'd been in a better position, he'd have whispered it straight into Ren's ear. Ren has no idea when he stopped stroking Hux, but it's been long enough that he's almost completely soft.

Hux doesn't particularly _need_ to get off, not anymore, but he's offering it as a way to distract them both, so Ren fondles his cock, tumbling it through his fingers, playing with it until it firms up and Hux's arousal kicks back into gear.

“Oh, _yes_ … like that,” he murmurs, as if Ren can't tell precisely what he most enjoys. Hux looks down, admiring the sight of Ren's hand completely enveloping his cock.

“So _big_ , alpha. You're all around me, inside me, holding me...” Ren could remind him he doesn't need to say these things out loud, but the little flashes of embarrassment Hux gets when he hears himself are too adorable.

Hux's legs are shifting, restless, and he traps them with his own, pinning him down. Hux keens, trying to move just to feel Ren stopping him.

“Tighter, Ren, please!” He means the hand on his cock. Ren speeds up, the still-wet slick letting him squeeze nice and firm, using his thumb to spread it over the head.

Hux lasts only a few more minutes before he erupts, and – _oh_ – the pleasure reverberating through his mind wrings an answering climax from Ren, just a tiny one.

“Fuck,” he gasps, surprised. “That's _good_.”

“You… just came again?” asks Hux, not sure whether he's mistaken, in the wake of his own pleasure – they're still _tie_ _d_ from Ren's previous climax, for stars' sake.

“Hmm,” Ren agrees, “I'm feeling a lot of what you feel, remember? Sometimes that's nearly enough on its own.”

That explains why Ren's been so considerate about pleasuring him, Hux thinks, cynically. Not many alphas bother – not that Hux ever invited them to, or gave any indication that he wanted anything from them except their come in his ass. He's gone through several heats without a single orgasm.

Ren wants to cuddle him and tell him he can spend every heat with Ren and he'll give him ecstasy like he's never felt. It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement – Hux could serve Ren, he could serve Hux...

Groaning at himself for thinking about the future _again_ , Ren summons the sacrificial blanket, finding a non-crusty part to wipe off the come and slick as he eases out of Hux.

“Maybe it'll be a relief to go back to hating each other,” he mutters. “It'll be simpler, at least.” This sort of futile hope and affection doesn't have any place in the dark side. He will have to ensure it doesn't persist after Hux's heat.

_< I don't hate you.>_

What? Did Hux mean to project that?

“You don't hate me?” Hux _can't_ say that, not now, not when Ren is trying to steel himself, to find the resolve to distance himself from this experience.

And besides, the idea is laughable. He sends Hux a few snippets of his own memories – the worst moments of Hux sneering at him, dismissing him, undermining him. The man in his arms flinches, mentally if not physically.

“It's not _hate_ ,” he says, determined. “It's fear, jealousy, annoyance. You're an overgrown toddler, a constant thorn in my side and a rival I will need all my cunning to beat, but I don't _hate_ you.”

Hux has never struck him as a man so in tune with his emotions. But then… Ren was never paying much attention, before. He was satisfied with provoking Hux's anger and didn't bother exploring any further.  
  
He peers into Hux's mind now, wanting to verify what he's saying, even though there's no lie under the words. Hux isn't thinking about Ren. Abruptly, he realises there is only one person Hux has ever truly hated – and Ren doesn't even come close.

“Your father,” he whispers, awed by the toxic, roiling _depth_ of Hux's hatred. “What did he do?”

Hux goes very still, conscious thoughts filling with images of blast shields and shutters coming down, even as he panics behind them.

“It's something to do with being an omega, and… with the academy too?”

Hux grits his teeth. “Stop that, stop looking, stop trying to prompt me into thinking about it.”

Ren shouldn't have explained how mindreading works. Hux can't help the snippets that are surfacing now, with his mental control weakened by outrage, but he's painfully aware of what's happening. And Ren can't draw away, can't give him enough privacy.

“Hux, please. You trusted me with everything else.”

“I didn't,” Hux says viciously, “I didn't tell you _half_ of what I went through.”

Ren gets several impressions at once, overlapping, jumbled together, almost indecipherable.

Teenage Hux alone in the heat quarters as his need builds up, realising that his appointed alpha isn't coming, fucking himself raw with a hairbrush handle for three agonising days.

Hux finding _two_ alphas waiting for him, thinking they can double-team him, nearly tearing him apart as their hormones overtake them.

Hux reporting this to an instructor and being told that learning to deal with alphas is the point of the exercise, and that this was clearly a valuable lesson.

Hux standing to attention in the Commandant's office, explaining that the policy on serving heats unfairly disadvantages omegas due to the population imbalance. Omegas lose study time compared to their alpha classmates – who only have to serve and be served once, and are allowed to take rut suppressors the rest of the time.

And the Commandant, with greying auburn hair and icy eyes and a sneer just like Hux's, telling him that the policy is perfectly fair. That he'd approved it himself. That it's the act of a snivelling coward running from his duty, to try to undermine the academy's teaching methods for his own personal gain.

“Your father refused to help you,” says Ren, when he's stopped reeling. “He... allowed you to be used like that.”

Commandant Brendol Hux. Deviser of many of the First Order's training programmes. Cruelly dedicated to the greater good of the Order.

Hux swallows, accepting that he may as well be honest with Ren now.

“He despised omegas,” he says, voice thick. “Partly because of my mother – he always felt she tricked him into serving her. But at least the resulting offspring – me – showed some promise, the potential to be a worthy successor. Until I presented. It was an unthinkable affront to his pride, for his son to be an omega. He… gave up on me? I'm not sure that's the right way to describe it. Discarded, maybe? But anyway, the withdrawal of whatever scant approval he'd shown before made me determined to both prove him wrong and make him proud.” This is insight Hux arrived at later – he wasn't astute enough at thirteen to analyse his motivations.

“Did…” Ren considers his words carefully. “Did he create that policy because of you?”

“I don't know. I snuck into the academy's data stores, looking for the policies that dealt with secondary gender, but they were all last updated by Commandant Hux, a few days after I presented. I couldn't access any previous versions, so I don't know for sure what was changed.”

When they last broached this topic, Ren had felt teenage Hux's shock, when the instructors explained how his heats would be used. It's possible he just wasn't aware of the policy before then, that it hadn't been explained because there _were_ no omegas until he presented.

It's also possible that it was devised specifically to spite him.

“Your father wanted to punish omegas,” says Ren. What he's seen of Brendol Hux is coloured by Hux's emotions, but he's certain of that much.

Hux sighs. “I didn't realise until I went to him with reasonable suggestions for amending the policy. I was prepared to accept that it was useful and efficient training for me and my alpha classmates, but… it didn't have to be _every_ heat. When he accused me of shirking my duty, it finally sunk in.”

If Hux wasn't the sort of person for whom adversity fuels their determination, he'd have broken then. Instead, he managed to salute and leave the office smartly, giving Commandant Hux no outward sign of his dismay or betrayal.

Just when Ren is thinking that must be the worst memory, there's another, flickering in Hux's mind.

He came back from his next heat to find his locker had been broken into. Cadets didn't have many possessions, aside from the standard-issue equipment and uniform, but everything, without exception, had been damaged or stolen. Hux picked through the ruins with a sort of resigned distance, cataloguing what he'd need to repair or replace.

And then he'd spotted the stylus, snapped in two, unusable. It was a gift from his mother, not gaudy or ostentatious, but a _good_ stylus, excellent for working on detailed schematics.

He'd never admitted to himself that he wanted his mother to save him, during the worst times, but he did. She was the only other omega he knew. He'd have given anything just to talk to her, to ask for advice.

And as muted despair flooded through him, a voice from another bunk, sneering: “Just get daddy to give you another one.”

Hux had nearly snapped. The only thing that kept him from lunging at the other boy and jamming the broken stylus into his eyes again and again and _again_ was the bone-deep exhaustion from his heat. How dare anyone _still_ assume he had his father's favour?

In Echo Base, in their little room, the other camp beds start to rattle against the boards on the floor, metal frames creaking under unseen pressure. Hux snaps back to the present, looking between them and Ren in alarm.

“Ren… you're growling.”

Ren blinks, eyes refocusing on Hux. He hadn't noticed the remembered rage infecting him.

“I will kill every one of them,” he snarls, with deadly certainty. “They will never hurt you again.”

Hux scoffs, almost sounding like his usual self. “That's hardly necessary. More than half of them are dead already, including—”

He stops. Including Brendol Hux himself. ‘Natural causes’.

Hux is unspeakably jealous that Ren got to kill his father with his own hands. And somehow that's the first thing that's made Ren feel better about it.

“I appreciate the sentiment, though,” says Hux, layering his voice with that soothing tone. “I survived. I didn't break. I became a General, I fired a superweapon, I got saddled with an unstable, Force-wielding alpha for a co-commander, remember?”

With some effort, Ren drags his power back inside himself, and the beds stop rattling. Hux is again thinking something unflattering about Ren's poor emotional control, but mainly to silence his omega side, which is crowing that his alpha is so fervently willing to avenge him.

Ren's loathe to admit it, but he could learn a lot from Hux, about emotional control. Hux has absorbed the bits of his past that make him stronger and relegated the rest of it to the inaccessible recesses of his mind.

Even when alphas are swaggering about with their unfiltered scent and their obnoxious, commanding voices, nothing gets triggered. He rarely even dreams about it anymore. Heat is the only time he's vulnerable.

But he _is_ vulnerable, right now. He didn't want to show Ren any of that. He feels raw, like he's been dragged naked over the ice outside. Everything is stinging and bleeding.

“I survived,” he repeats, to himself. He's thinking it's bitterly ironic that the overall most pleasant heat he's had will be the one he _doesn't_ survive.

Ren makes a helpless groan, hugging him tighter. He almost wants to tell Hux one of _his_ secrets, just for some sense of evenness. But however honest and honourable Hux seems right now, he _will_ revert to being a conniving pain in the ass. It would be smarter to stay quiet—

“My uncle tried to kill me. Skywalker, I mean.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Hux frowns, confused.

“Yeah, I don't know why I'm telling you either,” Ren says ruefully.

“What happened?”

Instead of speaking, Ren tries to show Hux the moment he woke up to see Luke standing over him, murderous expression illuminated by the green of his lightsaber. He knows it's working when Hux's fingers clench – 'murderous men with lightsabers' is familiar to him, after all.

Ren isn't trying to say he had it as hard as Hux, it's just… he needs Hux to know that he understands the pain of being betrayed by your family. And Hux gets it. He also appreciates that Ren's trying to distract him from his own memories.

“Why did he want to kill you?”

“He thought I was turning to the dark side. He realised he couldn't keep me from discovering the power it offers, though he'd been trying for years.”

“I… see.” Hux doesn't, not really. At least he's not being openly dismissive. All Force users are irritating, to Hux. He’s surmised that those on the side of the Empire – or the First Order – are the ‘dark side’, and those who oppose it are the ‘light side’. So from his point of view, the dark side gets things done and the light side obstructs progress.

“Ren,” he says quietly, “I need a minute. Can you let me go? Just to the fresher, I'll be right back.”

It's as difficult to unhand Hux as it was to quell his rage, but he manages, watching Hux find his boots and pull Ren's cowl around him, along with a spare blanket. He grabs the half-full water jug and – after a nod from Ren – the lamp. He wants to ask Ren to stay out of his mind for a bit, but he also knows it might not be possible.

“I'll be meditating,” Ren offers. He has no idea if that will work, while they aren’t physically attached, but he'll try. For Hux. Even though he wants to watch, wants to help Hux put himself back together.

Hux nods, pausing with one hand on the door. “Brace yourself,” he says, with something like a smile. Then he's gone.

It's immediate, the reaction in Ren. He nearly grabs Hux with the Force and drags him back. He nearly jumps up to go with him – to the _fresher_ , for kriff's sake. His omega is suffering, struggling, wounded somehow, and he needs to _do something_.

His knuckles are white, where he's gripping the bed frame to keep still. Okay. Deep breath. Hux's scent is still here, still strong, and he focuses on that. Any other alpha would be fine, he tells himself. If he didn't have such intimate access to Hux's mind, all he'd sense is that the heat was sated for a while.

He closes his eyes, forcibly diving into that deep, dark pool of nothingness, letting it smooth the spikes of yearning that he feels for his omega. The cool not-water envelops him, dimming his awareness of Hux until he's just a single point in the flow of the Force.

Far, far away, he can sense the other omega – Rey’s like a star, or maybe a supernova with how bright she shines. Even with no connection between them but hatred, he can feel the ripples of her energy. He might know she's found Skywalker if her signature fades – surely he'd teach her to conceal it. He'd have to. Even the senile old man would recognise the danger it puts her in.

He didn't really notice Rey's omega scent when she was first captured. He was too preoccupied with getting the map – and then after her escape, with her untrained Force potential. He should have been paying attention to more than that. If he'd been anticipating it, maybe he wouldn't have been undone by her cry...

The moment Hux enters the bunk chamber, Ren is hauled back into his body. He blinks, the single lamp too bright as Hux hangs it back on the peg. The man feels completely different, now. He's in rigid control of his memories, and Ren again wishes he'd watched how he accomplished that.

He's scrubbed his face, tried to finger-comb his hair into something like its usual style, not that it'll cooperate without a copious amount of gel to keep it in place. He isn't going to ask whether Ren managed to give him some privacy, but he was a bit reassured, when he saw Ren's eyes flicker open. He took it as a sign that he tried.

He strips everything off, stretching out beside Ren, pressing his chilled skin against his alpha's warmth. Ren drags a couple of blankets back over them, noticing the determined light in Hux's eyes as he rubs his side, friction generating a meagre amount of heat.

“There _is_ a better way to warm me up,” Hux murmurs, deliberately provocative.

Ren's a little surprised. Obviously, Hux has been using sex to distract them from unpleasant conversations this whole time, but right now he genuinely _wants_ it. He wants _something_ anyway – Ren's having trouble getting a clear read on what. There's trepidation, anticipation and a lot of suppressed embarrassment muddling his feedback.

“Hux, talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

“Maybe I want you to be a little rougher with me,” he says, face going red despite his outward control.

And now he's thinking very clearly about Ren using his Force abilities to pin him down, or hold him up, or make him take Ren's cock in a number of inventive positions.

Ren blinks at him. _This_ is where Hux's interest in his powers has been leading, this whole time?

“You have a Force kink.”

Hux looks aghast. “I do _not_. But given I have this opportunity, I'm curious to find out what it's like, now I know you can be delicate with it.”

“What if I don't appreciate being used as a curiosity?”

Hux drums his fingers on Ren's chest. “Hmm. That's fair. But I wonder if you _could_ deny me, if I begged?”

Ren shudders. He couldn't. He'd give Hux anything he asked for right now.

“Please don't. I'm not denying you.”

He's thought about using the Force for sex, fantasised about it a little, maybe, but it's never left the realms of his imagination. He'll have to figure out some practicalities…

“Ren?” says Hux, concerned when he doesn't continue. “You can say no. I'm not... I wouldn't try to _make_ you…” He doesn't want to stoop to the level of the people who used and manipulated him years ago.

Ren cups his flushed cheek. “I know you wouldn't.”

He's amazed Hux was forward enough to ask for this. It's like he's let himself off the leash, now that he's decided he hasn't got long to live. The worst Ren will do right now is refuse and laugh at him – and that's hardly going to matter once he's dead.

“I'm just deciding what I'm going to do to you,” he murmurs.

Hux's full-body shiver is nothing to do with the cold and _everything_ to do with the dangerous, erotic purr in Ren's voice. Ren _wants_ to do this, Hux thinks, a bit bewildered, and then corrects himself: he's _willing_ to, anyway.

“No, I _want_ to.”

“You want to fuck me, because of the heat. You're doing it this way because _I_ want you to.”

“Hey, don't start telling me what I do and don't get off on – _you_ aren't a mindreader. Surely you could guess I'd like holding you helpless, watching you struggle desperately in my grip?”

Hux snorts, but it's a bit shaky with arousal. “Okay, that is actually consistent with your previous behaviour.”

“Y'know, I think I _could_ stand you begging, if you were enjoying it,” Ren grins.

Hux shifts against him, a burst of slick seeping from his eager hole. “Then… _please_ , Ren,” he murmurs, ducking his head to nibble at Ren's earlobe. “ _Please_ , take me apart.”

Despite his bravado, Ren does have to clamp down on the urge to throw Hux onto his hands and knees and mount him right then. His cock is achingly hard, throbbing between his legs.

“C'mon, sit on me, ride me.” Hux scrambles up, throwing a long, pale leg over Ren's hips. He reaches behind himself, positioning Ren at his entrance, sinking quickly onto him, wrapping his cock in tight, wet heat.

“ _Oh_ , hang on, wait there,” Ren gasps, when Hux has swallowed him to the root. He takes a fortifying breath, gathering his concentration.

“Put your hands behind your back, clasp your forearms – that's it,” he whispers, when Hux complies. He secures him with the Force, grinning as Hux tries to move and can't, wriggling, shoulders straining, a burst of panicked arousal running through him.

“Ren,” he breathes, like a plea, like a promise. Like a warning.

“You know I can't hurt you, my precious omega. I'd feel your distress. So relax. Let me give you what you want.” He meant that to sound teasing, but it veered into very earnest.

“Move,” he prompts, patting Hux's spread thighs.

Hux looks down at him, gorgeous in his uncertainty. “I'll fall over...”

“You won't,” he promises.

Cautiously, Hux eases himself up the length of Ren's cock, the muscles in his legs tightening, working to keep his balance. It's frustratingly difficult, without the use of his arms.

He's concentrating so hard on trying to get a proper rhythm going that the first, gentle Force-touch to his side makes him jump. Ren keeps him upright when he overbalances with a sharp exclamation, eyes wide, feeling the Force supporting him.

“Stars,” he breathes. He almost recognises the invisible strength that pins him to walls and clamps his jaw shut – it's familiar, but somehow there's no malice in it now. Is he sensing _Ren's_ emotions or something?

“Maybe a bit,” agrees Ren. “Maybe it's just that you know I'm not threatening you with it.” His cock flexes inside Hux, demanding more.

“Keep going,” he orders, watching as Hux speeds up, getting used to relying on the Force, to trusting it – and Ren – to help him.

It's still difficult to balance, and it gets worse as Ren starts sending little skittering touches over Hux's skin, just shy of tickling. He caresses everywhere, loving the way Hux's eyes widen and his rhythm falters as he struggles to process being touched all over.

“Oh,” he gasps, “Oh, fuck!” He had no idea Ren could do things like this, wasn't mentally prepared. It's like hands, like fingertips, moving incessantly, never lingering in one spot even as he cries out for it. There's no body heat, just pure sensation.

The touches slide over his shoulders, down his heaving chest and shivering stomach, around his sides, up his back, along his straining thighs, never stopping, restlessly exploring him. He can't keep track of everywhere he's being touched – feels like his brain is short-circuiting even _trying_ to.

“So stop,” says Ren, laughing at his absurd, control-freak omega. “Stop trying to catalogue and just let it wash over you.”

Hux tries to glare at him, but his face slackens and his eyes flicker closed as Ren strokes him a little more firmly. He's so gorgeous, like this, spread open over Ren, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and exertion, utterly at his mercy and not-very-secretly turned on by that.

His cock is _very_ hard, bouncing and leaking as he rides Ren. He doesn't even want Ren to touch it, not yet – that would almost be too easy. He wants to explore the sensations Ren can wring from the rest of his body first. He wants to be _desperate_ for those invisible tendrils to finally reach his cock.

Hux's eyes spring open as Ren brushes over a nipple, and he chokes on a moan.

“They're sensitive?”

“…During my heat, yes,” Hux pants, knowing what Ren will do with that information, a bit scared, but willing to chase his desires as far as Ren can take them. His arms are trapped behind him, leaving him so open and vulnerable – he can't hide, he can't stop Ren from – _ah!_ – from using his Force-touch to circle Hux's nipples, relentlessly, making them harden into little buds that send pleasure curling through him.

Now he's found this out, Ren intends to give him no respite – bastard could have mentioned this earlier, could have let Ren abuse his sweet, pebbled nipples to turn him into a writhing mess all the other times they fucked. He'll just have to pay him back for the missed opportunities now. He concentrates the pressure of his touch on circling round and over Hux's nipples, switching direction every time Hux seems to be adapting to the sensation.  
  
Creating the soft, teasing touches is like moving something very light or fragile, he decides. Enough power to be effective, not so much that it breaks. It's already noticeably easier to control the Force while Hux is squeezing and squirming around his cock. How many times has he attempted it? Three, now? Ren was always a fast learner. Admittedly, he's abdicating responsibility for penetration to Hux this time, which is a little mean, considering everything else he's doing to him.

He tucks his hands behind his head, because it shows off the swell of his muscles, and because it makes him look unforgivably casual, which annoys Hux no end. It also emphasises that he isn't using his hands. Everything Hux is feeling is the Force – except for the cock filling his ass.

“Ren–” Hux pants, a combination of irritation and lust letting his name slip out. Ren grins, sending another tendril down to the small of Hux's back, and then lower, massaging the rim of his stretched, stuffed hole. Hux yelps, supple body arcing like he's had an electric shock. So of course Ren eases off just to do it again.

His omega's mind is a din of pleasure and pleading that Hux is trying to wall up inside himself, and Ren decides his goal is to shatter those barriers and make _everything_ Hux is thinking spill from his lips. He won't let Hux come until he does.

He's going to make sure this is a memory Hux will return to, when he masturbates, when he stokes his cock, when he shoves one of his dildos or vibrators or plugs inside his greedy ass. He's going to remember Ren holding him tight, playing with him. And he's going to _hate_ that. Ren grins, though Hux doesn't see – his eyes have closed again. He's going to hate that Ren knows. It'll be worth not killing him just for that.

“You look stunning, Hux,” Ren murmurs, picking up a subtle need for reassurance. “Your body _belongs_ to me, all this is mine to enjoy, to manipulate exactly as I wish.” He caresses Hux, gently, to back up his claim.

“Yes!” Hux hisses, biting his lip. He loves being reminded that he's helpless, that Ren's in total control. “More, please!”

“Good start. I think you can plead a little more eloquently than that, though.” He pinches Hux's nipples, making him squeak.

“I really can't, Ren!”

“Not sentences, then. Just give me words. Surely you can manage that?”

“ _Nnngh_.”

“Oh, I've robbed you of words too? Pity.”

Hux’s eyes flash, teeth bared in an almost-grin. A little bit of antagonism, of competition, makes this somehow sweeter. He won’t just _give_ Ren what he wants, but he’ll enjoy Ren taking it. He doesn't have to know _Ren's_ only able to speak because he's re-routed all the concentration from his cock – he really, really doesn't want to come too soon.

He senses Hux's fleeting irritation that his hair is falling in his face, and the rush of arousal as he tries to brush it back and remembers his arms are still bound. Ren sends a few Force tendrils up to run through his hair and over his scalp in a soothing motion, tucking the stray lock of hair behind his ear.

Hux's wide, pale eyes meet Ren's. “Oh,” he whispers.

Ren really can tell exactly what he wants, what he needs, down to the smallest detail.

_< Of course I can>_ Ren sends him, and for an instant Hux feels the absolute depth of the connection between them, of having Ren inside his body and his mind. His conscious and unconscious thoughts are all screaming for Ren to never, ever stop this beautiful torture, and screaming equally loudly for Ren to bring him to his peak.

_< Why do you even _want _me to beg? You know I am >_

_< I'm still a shit, I still love breaking your pride>_

_< Ah>_

Hux grits his teeth around a moan, determined to be contrary even as Ren redoubles his efforts to undo him. He's playing Hux's body like an instrument, discovering where and how to touch to pluck different sounds from him, but he can't get _words_. It's uniquely frustrating.

Hux isn't sure he'd like this, normally. As if they'd ever fuck each other _normally_ , without the heat haze forcing their hands. And other body parts... Hux doesn't trust people, certainly not enough to enjoy being helpless. But right now, right here, he's _not_ , because he _made_ Ren do this. Because he could make him stop, with a thought. This whole scene is like proof of his alpha's devotion. He's never felt so safe.

So maybe… maybe he can give Ren what he's asking for. Maybe he can submit completely. Ren tries to keep the eagerness off his face as Hux swallows, licking his lips – they're dry from panting and gasping.

“Ren,” he whispers, “my alpha, you are incredible. _This_ is incredible. I need you, I want you to make me feel _everything_. Please? Just… please?”

Ren grins up at him, using the Force to sweep gently over the blush that's now covering his face, neck and most of his chest.

“Come for me, omega,” he murmurs. “Show me your pleasure.” He wraps Hux's cock in a phantom grip, too light to give relief, but enough to make him lose his balance again as he bucks wildly, trying to chase it. He's gone so long without being touched there, such a sensitive area neglected, that everything is heightened, the slightest brush nearly too much.

Ren strokes him maddeningly gently, curling around his head and down under his heavy balls and along his shaft, enveloping him in waves of soft, heavenly pressure. Hux tilts his hips, straining for more, the change in angle driving Ren firmly against his prostate and—

“Oh, Ren, _fuck_! I'm going to come all over you!” His need is urgent and desperate, winding him tighter than he'd ever thought, he can't see, everything's a blur of pleasure as he stops fighting, stops trying to hold himself back against Ren's exquisite torment and just lets the sensations rip through him. He doesn't care that Ren is watching, fascinated, wanting to overload him even more.

“Please,” he begs, hoarse now, “ _Please_!” Ren twitches his fingers, drawing the coiling pressure around Hux's cock a little tighter, and Hux throws his head back, mouth open on a scream as his body turns incandescent, the most intense orgasm he's ever had breaking him into pieces. He shoots all the way to Ren's chin, cock spurting helplessly in that perfect grip.

Ren has never seen, never _felt_ anything more wonderful than Hux's wire-taut body pulsing with the joy of finally, _finally_ achieving release. His mind is buzzing, blank, no coherent thoughts amongst the static.

When he's fully spent, Ren starts to ease off, withdrawing his Force tendrils one at a time. He unbinds Hux's arms last, and that seems to bring him back to awareness.

“Ah, don't let me go, Ren – I'll collapse.” Ren chuckles, warmth blooming somewhere under his ribs. Somewhere that might be his heart.

He keeps Hux upright as the man rolls his shoulders, shaking out the tension from his arms until, abruptly, Ren can't hold himself back any longer. The Force surrounds them, and there's a moment of weightlessness as he quickly but carefully flips them over so he can press Hux down into the mattress, still buried inside him.

Hux sighs, wrapping shaking legs around his back, pulling him closer. The only thing that could make his omega happier right now is to be filled with his alpha's come, and luckily Ren is only a few hard thrusts from providing that. He breathes in Hux's scent, and Hux presses a breathless kiss to his cheek and then his climax slams into him, knot expanding so fast it leaves him giddy, and Hux moans decadently, shuddering as his insides stretch around the bulb, keeping Ren exactly where he needs to be.

For a very long time, they just stay there, panting against each other, enjoying the aftermath. Hux's whole body is trembling against Ren's, hands clasping him like he's an anchor to keep him from drifting away.

“Wow,” he whispers, tone full of wonder and pleasure and gratitude. For once there's no sarcasm or wit to mask his emotions. That one word might be all the honest thanks he can offer Ren. But it's enough. Ren can read so much more in the jumble of his thoughts. He's never been indulged like that, never had his orgasm teased and built up agonisingly slowly, until he's not sure if his partner will even _let_ him come.

Ren could be that cruel, another time. When he isn't so tied to Hux's desires. He could spend hours torturing Hux, bringing him close but not close enough to release.

It's not a Force kink, he realises, not exactly. It's more about submission. Hux is always in control, of his ship, his fleet, him _self_. There's a certain freedom in having that control taken from him – the Force is just a very convenient tool.

Actually, this whole situation is the perfect confluence of circumstances, perhaps the _only_ situation in which Hux could allow himself this. Ren can restrain him, easily. He can read his mind, pick up what he wants – and the heat means he'll give it to him.

Plus, he isn't going to have to live with the shame of enjoying it for very long. Hux is a bit proud of himself for trying this, before Ren ends him. It would have been a waste not to experience it.

Ren leans up on his elbows, looking down at Hux. He's never seem him smile like this – dazed, contented, genuinely happy. Maybe no one has. His normal smile is tight, mean, never reaches his eyes. Ren drinks it in, tries to memorize it, because as soon as Hux realises he's doing it, that smile will vanish.

Still, he can't stop himself tracing the bow of Hux's lips, admiring the curve, the plump softness. A few days ago, Hux considered drinking from a _boot_ , to avoid this kind of contact. Now, he flicks his tongue out, licking at his fingers suggestively, smile broadening as Ren's knot throbs inside him.

He'd look wonderfully debauched, on his knees with that mouth stuffed full of Ren's cock. Ren wonders how much of it he could take, whether Hux could deepthroat him all the way to the base… and then he realises that that thought isn't all him – Hux is pondering the same question. Stars, this man...

He could kiss him, maybe. Hux probably wouldn't _stop_ him. But the idea is so much more intimate than anything they've done so far. Kissing is… romantic. Kissing is for people who aren't going to be bitter rivals afterwards.

Though, to be fair, going back to their usual antagonism after sharing all this seems impossible to _both_ of them. Ren thinks it'll bring them closer – maybe not _kissing_ close, but closer. Hux thinks it'll drive them so far apart that Ren kills him. He blinks, dragging his eyes away from Hux's mouth. Afterwards doesn't matter _now_.

Hux's stubble is growing in. It's bright orange, like his hair, and Ren finds it absolutely adorable. He keeps brushing it with his fingertips, until Hux bats his hand away.

“Why are you touching my face?” he asks, not as much annoyed as he is confused.

“Because in a few hours you won't let me.”

“In a few hours you won't _want_ to.”

“Yeah, that too.” Ren leans down, rubbing their noses together just to make Hux wriggle away.

As if in revenge, Hux traces Ren's patched-up scar, from his forehead, over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek, arching an eyebrow, daring him to object. His touch is gentle, like it might still hurt – it doesn't, the bacta strip is working wonders – and Ren's eyes flicker shut, letting him.

Unbidden, he pictures the omega who gave him that scar, and for the first time doesn’t have to swallow a growl. There's no way she could ever smell as alluring as Hux does. He won't be distracted by something as feeble as her scent, not when he knows the absolute power Hux holds over him right now. They will clash again. He will destroy her. He feels both with equal certainty.

Hux, still brushing his scar, is remembering a moment slightly later, when he found Ren, battered, broken, bloodied in the snow.

He'd been so angry. Snoke had sent him to retrieve his apprentice, Lord Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, Co-commander of the Finalizer – but Hux considered him nothing more than the idiot responsible for Starkiller's collapse.

He'd blamed Ren absolutely and completely – he'd _wanted_ to, he'd needed a witch to burn, needed flames to keep that anger hot enough to sustain him. It was easy, while Ren was just the beep of his tracker on a monitor. But once he found him – his corpse, as Hux had initially thought – he became too busy making sure Ren didn't actually die to be furious.

Ren hasn't seen this part – the mad rush to reach the shuttle, the panic as Ren's heartbeat slowed, the eerie image of himself floating in a green bacta tank. He'd passed out just after he glimpsed ginger hair and realised it was Hux who'd found him.

“You saved me,” he whispers.

Hux's eyes refocus, narrowing as he realises what he was thinking about.

“It was my only chance to lessen the Supreme Leader's wrath over the loss of Starkiller Base,” he says, matter-of-fact, warning Ren not to read anything into his actions.

Hux wants to ask what happened, why Ren lost. But he doesn't. Ren can't tell him anyway. He's guessed it was to do with the scavenger girl, the one who escaped. If Ren reveals it was because Rey's an omega, Hux will put the pieces together and figure out what's going on _here_ , on Hoth. He'll figure out he's being used, again. Ren still wants to protect him from that knowledge, if he can – he's already made Hux dredge up enough of his past abuse.

His knot has shrunk while they've both been lost in thought, so he eases himself out of Hux, the man beneath him hissing with mingled loss and relief, and rolls off him.

Hux leans over the edge of the bed, giving Ren an accidental but lovely view of his round ass and dripping hole, and snags the blanket, wiping his smeared come off their fronts. Ren catches a stray almost-thought about licking it off his pecs and maybe biting them a little, and barely manages to keep a straight face.

Hux dumps the blanket and grabs a water jug instead, but it's almost empty. Ren holds out a hand, and Hux is about to pass it to him when he hears a tell-tale 'whump' behind him, and ducks aside just as a mound of snow zips towards them. Ren funnels it into the jug, sticking his tongue out when Hux scowls at him, and warms it quickly to melt the snow.

It occurs to him that he should have boiled all their water before drinking it, that would have been safer. But he can't bring himself to worry – they had other pressing matters to deal with, and they're both up to date with their inoculation stims, unless Hux has been neglecting that too…

Hux is fumbling over the edge of the bed again, finding another ration bar. This one is a different brand, but the faint hope that it might _taste_ different is quashed on the first bite. He forces down a few more mouthfuls with gulps of water, and then shoves the bar at Ren.

It's quite cute, actually – he doesn't fully realise it, but Hux is doing little considerate things for him because Ren went to the trouble of fulfilling his submission fantasy. He settles back down next to Ren's warmth, hauling the blankets over them, and letting a palm roam idly over the defined muscles of his torso.

“Again,” Hux murmurs, the _moment_ he's finished the ration bar. His hand slips lower, petting his soft cock. Ren groans, and it's not all put-on – he feels drained, in the best way, but still drained.

“You're insatiable,” he grumbles.

Hux just chuckles. “That's rather the point of a heat, I'm afraid. Come on, don't give up on me now.” He crawls up, pressing Ren's face into his neck. “Here, lick me.”

Ren sighs, sounding as aggrieved as possible, but he flicks his tongue out, drawing it up the column of Hux's throat. There are still yellowing bruises where he choked him, he notices with a pang of guilt.

And then Hux's scent barrels into him and Hux is laughing as his cock perks up, hardening into his hand. He wraps elegant fingers around it, stroking, erection growing firm under his patient encouragement.

The other hand slides into Ren's hair, through the thick silk of it, keeping him in place, enjoying Ren's tongue tracing patterns on his skin. Hux tastes as good as he smells, and that is saying a _lot_ , right now, but there was somewhere else he particularly wanted to taste...

“Can I eat you out?” he says, into the skin over the tender scent gland.

“Yeah, but not for long.”

Ren doesn't waste a moment, pushing Hux onto his elbows and knees, capturing an ass cheek in each hand and spreading him, mouth watering at the sight of that pink, twitching hole. He dives in tongue first, no patience, no finesse – not that he's got any finesse to use.

Hux bites off a very loud groan at the sudden assault, pressing back eagerly as Ren circles his hole just once before delving inside. He's so soft in here, so hot and wet, and Ren _knew_ this, he's been balls deep many times over the last few days, but it's a very different experience with his face pressed right in close.

He swirls his tongue, licking around the walls of Hux's passage, making them flutter and spasm, more slick coating them, coating his tongue, running down his throat as he swallows. Dimly, he's aware that asses don't usually taste great, but fuck, this is delicious.

_< How did I not do this earlier?>_ he sends Hux, who jumps in surprise. _< You can have the rest of the food, I'm just going to eat your ass. Slick is safe to ingest, right?>_

“Not in the quantities you're proposing…”

Ren rolls his eyes, pointing his tongue and spearing Hux as deep as he can get, making the other man gasp.

“It's like semen, you utter moron – edible but not nutritious.”

_< It tastes way better than your come>_ he purrs, grinning as Hux remembers that Ren did in fact suck him off yesterday, and it was intensely, unexpectedly erotic.

_< Does it taste the same when you're not in heat?>_

“I don't know, Ren! I've never tried it!” Hux is really struggling to cope with the agile flicker of his tongue – it's nothing like the firm, deep stretch of a cock, or even fingers. None of his toys come close.

“Have _you_ ever tasted your own come?" he manages.

_< I mean, I am a little bit, now…>_ Hux snorts a laugh at that. There are still a few streaks of it mingled with the sweet juice of Hux's slick. Ren doesn't mind. It's a marker that Hux belongs to him, even temporarily – during his rut, he'd go mad for it.

_< It's not the same deal, anyway>_ he carries on. _< Slick is meant to be an aphrodisiac – come isn't. It's not unreasonable to wonder if it tastes as good as it smells>_

“It doesn't smell that amazing to _me_ , just to alphas!”

Hux is wondering why he's having to justify _not_ tasting his own kriffing bodily fluids. He's also wondering why they're having a conversation right now, and most of all he's wondering why Ren gets _more_ talkative when his mouth is fully occupied.

_< Because it frustrates you>_ he sends, giving Hux's hole a long, luxurious lick.

“It really does,” he admits, teeth gritted. It's like Ren's voice is taking up space in his brain that he was _trying_ to use to appreciate the sensations coming from his ass.

_< I'll stop talking>_ Ren laughs, getting an immediate, instinctive 'no!' from Hux's thoughts, and realises with a jolt that Hux quite _likes_ feeling Ren's presence in his mind. It's… comforting? It reminds him he's not alone.

Ren tries to send him the mental equivalent of a hug, just a careful burst of warmth and reassurance, and Hux shivers under his hands, whimpering when Ren twists his tongue and slides it all the way in again.

Hux is needing _more_ with building urgency, and just as he's on the cusp of demanding his cock, Ren pulls away, lining his aching erection up and entering him in one long, perfect thrust. That slick hole accepts him so readily – he loves watching himself sink inside, inch by inch, loves Hux's hands clenching on the bed sheets even as he clenches around Ren.

With a quick, unseen gesture, he anchors Hux's forearms down, because if he gets this next bit right, Hux is definitely going to try to slap him. The man doesn't notice straight away, too preoccupied with enjoying the fullness of Ren inside him.

He sets a leisurely pace. Soon, Hux will start aching not just for his cock but his _come_ , and that's where the challenge is – he wants to see how long he can resist that siren call. He's got the advantage of being nearly tapped out – he's going to need a while to reach his peak anyway.

He strokes the length of Hux's spine, reverently, from his neck down to his tailbone, and then down again, to the point where they're connected.

“You take me so well,” he whispers.

Hux can't help feeling a little proud at that, even though he knows it's mainly thanks to his heat.

“You _fill_ me so well,” he says, meaning that Ren's cock is satisfyingly large, but also that he's paying attention to what he does with it.

Ren grins, tilting his hips so that his next thrust brushes Hux's prostate, and is rewarded with a sharp gasp and Hux finally trying to move – and noticing his arms won't obey.

“Ren, did you–” He bites his lip as he realises that yes, Ren did bind him to the bed, and yes, he is unspeakably turned on by that.

Ren continues his long, deep movements, dragging his cock against that tight bundle of nerves, holding the rest of Hux's body still as he tries, unconsciously, to twist away from the almost-too-much stimulation. For all that he wants Ren's come, Hux doesn't quite need another release himself, not yet.

That's the goal, then: don't knot him until Hux is equally desperate for _both_ of them to climax.

He focuses on maintaining his aim, abusing Hux's prostate to send little bursts of pleasure skittering through him, breathing slowly and deliberately. He can do this, he can keep himself from tipping over the edge, it's just a matter of control.

Hux notices the comparative quiet after a few minutes, when, by his estimations, Ren should have been panting and gasping and about to pop.

“What are you _doing_ , Ren?”

He leans over Hux, kissing the jut of his shoulder blades. “I want you to come.”

“That's my line.”

Ren chuckles. “You can take me with you – I told you how good your pleasure feels, to me. I won't be able to hold back...”

Hux swears. His head bows, looking back underneath him. His cock is bobbing pathetically between his legs, tip glossy with precome – in this position, he can't get any friction on it. Ren won't let him have a hand to stroke himself, won't let him rut against the bed, and apparently won't touch him himself, not even with the Force. (He _can't_ – all his concentration is going into hanging on to his own climax.)

“Just like this, Hux,” he groans. “Just my cock in your ass. I know you can manage, go on – reach for it.”

“You… contrary bastard! If you want me to come, touch me.”

“Nope.”

“Ren!”

Oh, this is delicious _agony_ for Hux. Has he ever had a purely prostate orgasm? He's thinking back over this heat – he already knows for sure he hasn't achieved it any other time. All his best sex memories are from this heat, Ren realises with a burst of pride that nearly undoes him. The base of his cock starts to expand subtly, and he bites his lip to stop it.

Hux is shuddering against his hold, fighting to move, desperate to take himself in hand. Ren continues pumping deep and slow, pressing the beginnings of his knot into Hux's hole, letting him feel the swelling there, and Hux groans, radiating frustration, _weeping_ with it. He just needs a couple of strokes, that's all, but he can't _get_ them.

He’s abruptly overtaken by the memory of coming in Ren's lap, just after Ren had confessed he hadn't served anyone before. His cock had barely brushed Ren's toned stomach and he'd emptied himself all over it – and Ren had looked so… amazed. Awed, maybe.

“I was. You're beautiful when you come.”

Ren pushes a little harder, the extra girth of him stretching Hux's hole, and they both feel the first telltale tremors of Hux's climax as he keens, wordless pleas falling from his lips, and Ren lets go, hips snapping forward, forcing his knot past the clenching ring of muscle until it pops inside, filling out, filling _Hux_ , making them both quake as shared pleasure races through them.  
  
“Fuck,” Hux is panting, when Ren's ears have stopped ringing. The first thing he does, once Ren remembers to let his arms go, is scrub a hand over his face, trying to disguise the redness around his eyes. The pillow beneath him is damp with tears, and the mattress with his meagre spurts of come.

Ren might have pushed him a little too hard, so soon after fucking him into a puddle with the Force. Hux doesn't _mind_ – he enjoyed that very much – but he's absolutely exhausted. When Ren wraps his arms around his chest in a bearhug, he nearly collapses.

“Heavy!” he hisses. Ren hums non-committally, squeezing him.

Before Hux's arms actually give out, he rolls them carefully onto their sides, keeping Hux snug against him, and presses his face into the back of his neck, nuzzling the short hair there.

It's not until Hux's heartbeat, thumping under Ren's hand, has slowed to its resting rate that Hux notices the texture below him, or rather, the lack thereof. He was expecting to be lying in the wet patch, had resigned himself to it. He glances down, realising they're a few inches _above_ the wet patch.

“Are we… floating?”

“You made a mess of the bed,” slurs Ren.

“ _I_ did? Don't absolve yourself of blame. I've been doing my level best to not make a mess this whole time.”

Ren huffs a laugh. “Bringing you off like that was worth having to spend a little extra concentration now.”

Hux is speechless, but only for a moment. “Well, as long as it's deliberate.” He's absurd, thinking Ren levitates by accident. He hasn't done that since he was a child.

Hux shifts, to the extent that he _can_ , while impaled on Ren's knot, reaching down. He's curious to find whether he can touch the bed, or if whatever Ren's doing to keep them up will stop him. It's not the same weightlessness he remembers from zero-grav training – his body feels as heavy as it always does. And it's not like being _held_ by the Force, like Ren was doing before – he can still move his limbs. It's just that whatever he's lying on… isn't there?

Ren sort of loves watching his mind, when he's trying to figure out the parameters of Ren's abilities. His fingers touch the mattress. Huh.

“If you grab another blanket, we could just put that down,” he says.

Ren holds him tighter. “Not yet. Let's stay like this, for a bit.”

Hux imagines Ren dozing off and being startled awake by their short, sudden fall onto the bed.

“I'm not going to drop us,” he chides. “This is nothing – I can keep this up while I'm asleep.”

“Or meditating,” Hux says, remembering Ren floating by the crashed shuttle.

“Yeah.”

Hux is wondering what it's like, to have as much power as Ren does, but just… naturally. To be secure in it. He hasn't had to work for it or fight for it – it's his by accident of birth.

That irritates Ren. Hux _knows_ he has to train – Hux has _helped_ him practice since they've been stuck here, for stars’ sake. Mastering and using the Force is hardly effortless. Or… well. He pictures Rey again.

But anyway, _practice_ isn't really what Hux means. Ren's power couldn't be ripped away by jealous rivals. The limited power that Hux has, he's had to grab and claim for himself, and that means it could always be taken from him, by someone more talented, more devious.

Or he could make a mistake, and lose it that way.

Starkiller's destruction had a more profound effect on his psyche than he realises. He survived as General, but only by dint of Snoke's questionable generosity, he's not deluding himself there.

And now he's gone missing in a hyperspace 'accident', along with the Order's next most powerful weapon. He has a mental dossier of officers who will have already made machinations – the ones who would claim the pair of them must be dead, and object to diverting Order resources to a fruitless search.

As Hux's thoughts circle back around to his impending death, he realises with a spiteful grin that without him, _Ren_ will have to deal with the Order's infighting and manoeuvring and one-upmanship. It won't be any concern of Hux's. Let him find out that Hux was no better or worse than any of them.

Ren wants to scoff. Better or worse mean nothing. Hux is Hux. He's… _Irreplaceable_ , his traitorous mind supplies.

He stifles a groan against Hux's skin, suddenly terrified that this debilitating feeling, the way they need and want each other so badly, will vanish for Hux but not him. _That_ would be the worst possible outcome. Hux wouldn't hesitate to exploit him, ruthlessly, efficiently, if he realised.

Ren tries to persuade himself that he won't become emotionally dependent on Hux. Hux hasn't even considered it a possibility – even his power fantasies of having Ren at his command are based around Ren rationally accepting that Hux can make better use of his abilities than himself or Snoke.  
  
“How are you feeling?” says Ren, without warning, just to break away from his thoughts.

Hux blinks, wondering if Ren's withdrawn from his head enough to not know.

“I'm still here, I just want you to talk to me. I need distracting.” _< Don't ask me what from>_ he sends, quietly.

Hux sighs, pressing back against the curve of Ren's body.

“I feel tired,” he says honestly, “and… heavy.” He drags Ren's hand to his belly, runs it over a small, soft bulge that wasn't there before. “Kriffing hell, you pumped me full.”

Ren presses down, very gently, suddenly remembering C-3P0's fussy voice delivering the only technical sex ed lecture Ben ever received.

'The omega's womb doesn't release the gathered sperm until a few days after heat, when insemination has occurred, or the sperm is no longer viable.'

Stars… Hux is going to have some small part of Ren inside him for _days_. How is this really quite important piece of reproductive knowledge only surfacing _now_? If Hux hadn't pointed out the barely discernible bump, it _wouldn't_ have... because it was buried twice over. _He'd_ suppressed it along with most of Ben's memories, and _Ben_ had suppressed it because _C-3P0_ talking about sex was the most cringeworthy thing he'd ever endured.

Ren swallows, running his palm in slow circles, beset with images of Hux's gently swollen belly expanding into pregnancy, of feeling their child shift inside him. He wants it so much it's painful.

“Ren?” He must have made a sound or something.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me. You get to hear all of my thoughts, it's only fair.”

“Urgh… Fine. I was imagining you pregnant. I… want it. Desperately.” He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the alien compulsions.

Hux sighs. “Me too. Kriffing hormones. This is why you have to sort out contraception in advance.”

“Hux,” says Ren, “you _aren't_ going to get pregnant, are you?” His tone of voice says he's hoping for the opposite.

“No, I've got a contraceptive implant, so at least _that_ won't wear off.” He sounds a little regretful too, so Ren hugs him tighter.

“We're going to laugh at the idea of _us_ being parents, afterwards.”

“Nope. Neither of us are going to mention it ever again, that's what's going to happen.”

Ren chuckles. He can't think of anyone who'd be worse at parenting than the two of them, with their combined daddy issues, and Hux is in full agreement there. He is, however, idly wondering whether Ren would spare him, if he were pregnant with his child.

_I would, of course I would,_ Ren's mind is clamouring, but he keeps it to himself. It's not a deal Hux would have made, anyway – outside of heat, he'd rather die than have Ren's child. Or anyone's, Ren realises, when he probes a bit deeper.

“At least it didn't get you until nearly the end,” Hux says, “Some alphas can't shut up about filling me until I'm pregnant.” Ren's spent cock twitches hopefully, and Hux bites his lip to avoid giggling.

“We're calling our theoretical child Brendol or Luke,” decides Hux. “In honour of the men who fucked us up. Or Han, if you prefer.”

“What about–”

“ _Not_ Vader.”

Ren finally slips out of Hux while they're both shaking with laughter. “You're awful. I can't believe you'd wish our fathers' legacy on an innocent child.”

“No child of ours would be innocent for very long,” says Hux, prophetically.

“True. They'd belong to the dark side if they were Force-sensitive, or to the Order if they weren't.”

“Is that how we'd split custody? You take them if they're magic and I take them if they're normal?”

“That'd be better than us both trying to parent together,” says Ren.

“ _Anything_ would be better than that… Imagine the arguments...”

What Ren actually imagines is a little girl in a black training outfit, with bright copper hair, and pale eyes scrunched up in concentration as she tries to lift a storage crate. He's not sure where the vision came from, but it's disturbing in its clarity.

“Was this sufficient distraction, at least?” says Hux, when Ren seems to give up on their banter.

“I mean, I'm definitely thinking about something else now,” he says, rubbing Hux's lower belly again. “Not sure it's much _better_ though.”

“Hmm.”

“I did come up with something else that might be diverting though…”

Hux glances over his shoulder. “What?”

Ren drops him, cackling as his mind flashes with the panic of falling. They were literally two inches above the bed – the 'fall' is over before Hux properly registers it.

He glares up at Ren. “In the wet patch, really?”

Ren is too busy laughing to avoid Hux grabbing him, yanking him down as well.

“Okay, okay, sorry, don't hurt me,” he protests, when Hux digs his nails in. They're face to face, and Hux kind of wants to bite Ren's stupid nose. But then the desire tails off, along with the string of invective about Ren's childish immaturity.

Ren pauses, not sure what happened. Oh… 'don't hurt me', he'd said. Hux has always known he couldn't beat Ren in any physical contest, whether he cheated with the Force or not – hearing him say he's vulnerable is... strange. Hux doesn't like it as much as he'd expected.

The man still glaring at him sighs. He climbs off the bed, grabbing another blanket to cover the wet patch, and lies back down beside Ren, tugging his arms around him.

“I need to sleep, just shut up and hold me.”

“Yes, General.”

Hux elbows him.

Ren calls up the rest of the blankets and spreads them out over them. This time he makes sure his hand doesn't drift anywhere lower than Hux's ribcage, but even so, it's a long while before the body he's curled around relaxes, even a tiny bit.

He picks up a stray thought from Hux, wondering whether Ren has fallen asleep yet, hoping that he has. Obligingly, Ren stifles a fake yawn, letting his breath slow and his muscles relax, trying to copy the images of himself, asleep, that Hux is recalling.

He's not sure why he's playing along. Could be the alpha urge to give his omega what he wants. Could be that he just wants to eavesdrop. Whatever. He keeps his face slack and neutral as Hux gradually convinces himself that Ren's drifted off.

Finally, Hux closes his eyes against the icy, partly caved-in, debris-strewn hole. One day, he will have a heat on his own terms, somewhere comfortable and safe, with an alpha who actually cares for him. And he'll be able to enjoy it.

It's a mantra, more than a fantasy, by this point. Ren can sense that Hux has consoled himself by repeating this 'one day' through every unpleasant heat he's experienced – at the academy, with overbearing alphas pulling him around on their knots, and later, in the sparse quarters of junior officers, making do with just toys inside him, wishing he didn't need something more.

He's sort of picturing a quiet, pleasant house, on some temperate planet. There's birdsong and water flowing and a fresh, gentle breeze – all things you don't get, on board a spaceship. The image is vague overall, because Hux knows he'll never have it. That sort of simple indulgence isn't available to Generals of the First Order. Ren can feel him mocking himself, for wanting all of this. For thinking about it even now.

Besides, knowing his luck, even if he somehow got it, that would be the heat where his contraception fails and he ends up pregnant.

It's such a small dream, for a man bent on ruling the galaxy and bringing order to everyone in it. Ren has the awful urge to promise he'll make it happen. Instead, he remains very still, not even hugging Hux tighter than he was already, and waits for sleep to claim him.


	4. Chapter 4

He comes awake, blinking, to find Hux looking down at him, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. It occurs to him that if Hux ever stabs him, this will be what he sees before he dies.

Then he realises that Hux _was_ actually thinking about stabbing him, and whether he could have killed Ren quickly enough not to get pulverised with the Force.

“Hux,” he groans, “stop that.”

“Sorry.” He does sound apologetic, but the fact that he can even consider attacking Ren must mean his heat is nearly over.

Hux brushes his fingers over Ren's fledgling moustache, seemingly fascinated. It's a good look on him, apparently – makes him appear older, more dignified.

“One more?” Ren asks, forcing himself _not_ to try nibbling at Hux's fingertips.

“Yeah.” Hux has just been to the fresher – Ren not waking up is probably another sign that the heat is dissipating – so Ren leaves him to snuggle into his leftover body heat while he goes himself.

He doesn't have to ask how Hux wants it, when he gets back – the man's thoughts have been teasing him the whole time. He leaves his boots on, sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hux climbs into his lap, hands immediately roving all over him. Ren circles Hux's hole, dipping one and then two fingers inside, checking he's still loose and wet enough not to need preparation.

“Come on,” Hux whispers into his neck, inhaling his scent, and Ren lifts him easily, slotting him onto his cock. Hux's thighs tense as he descends slowly, letting them both appreciate the warm-tight- _full_ sensations.

“That's... _yes_ ,” says Hux, eloquently, when they're flush together, and Ren has to agree. Nothing will ever compare to sinking into Hux's eager, willing body. Nothing else could make him feel this powerful and this weak all at once. Their eyes meet, and Hux's are full of simmering fire.

 _< Make it good. Make it last>_ Hux projects to him. He nods. This might have to _last_ them the rest of their lives, after all. They might never come back here, to this space where they can need and trust and _touch_ each other.

With a growl, Hux shoves both hands into Ren's hair, running his fingers through silky strands that Ren is _so_ glad he remembered to comb.

“You were right,” Hux purrs. “I fucking love your hair.” He tugs Ren's head to one side, brushing his hair away and nibbling on the lobe of his ear. “And your ears.”

It's… greedy. It's Hux taking everything he wants from Ren while he can get it. It's a last, beautiful all-encompassing indulgence. His breath is coming in uneven pants that Ren can feel disturbing his hair.

“Don't start wearing your stupid helmet again, please.”

Ren has to laugh, despite the sore spot that touches. After all the snide comments Hux has made about his mask, it turns out he had aesthetic objections too. He's aware his opinion hardly matters to Ren, but right now he can say what he likes as well as _do_ what he likes, and he is damn well going to.

Ren goes willingly when Hux angles his head the other way, tracing round the shell of his ear with his tongue, sending a little shiver through him. Ren's ears aren't exactly sensitive, but it's erotic having Hux's attention focused _anywhere_ on his body – particularly while his ass is holding his dick captive in soft, clinging heat.

Hux worries at the lobe, teeth testing the give of his flesh, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to _suggest_ it, and Ren's cock jerks, flexing inside him.

The man hums happily. “Want me to move?”

“More than anything.”

Hux chuckles, lifting up and sliding back down, body rolling, working himself on Ren's cock.

“Oh, so _deep_ ,” he murmurs, not really aware he said that out loud. Ren strokes all the way down his back, cupping his ass to angle him slightly better, and on the next downward slide, Hux sees stars.

“Yes, _there_ , thank you,” he babbles, letting Ren guide him. Ren's cock presses firmly against that lovely cluster of nerves, making pleasure sizzle through him.

Very gently, Ren probes his mind, checking below the surface thoughts – which are bubbling with _yes please more_ – and finds Hux is torn. He needs Ren to give him his come, but he knows that this load will finally be _enough_.

Hux recognises the change in his hormones that means the heat is dissipating, even if Ren is too inexperienced to sense it first-hand, and it lends a frantic quality to his movements. He wants to draw it out, he wants to get it over with, but most of all he wants _Ren_ , despite knowing he'll be mortified at his omega side's cravings very, very shortly.

“I'm here,” Ren murmurs. “I've got you.” He feels a little burst of gratitude at the meaningless words, and Hux starts riding him with renewed determination, engulfing Ren's cock from head to base each time, the slide long and perfect.

Ren bucks into it, feeding him a tiny bit more as he sinks down, pressing his hips to Hux's delectable ass, drawing breathless, encouraging noises from the man. His hands tighten in Ren's hair every time he hits his prostate, and in his mind there's a sort of formless apology, concern that he's hurting Ren.

 _< You're fine, keep going>_ It's more than fine, actually – the pinpricks of pain stop him sinking too fast into the swirling current of arousal that's drawing him towards climax. He kisses along Hux's collarbones, nuzzling at the hollow of his throat until a frankly superb idea occurs to him.

He tilts Hux back a little, bringing his mouth to a tiny, peaked nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Hux curses, pulling _hard_ on Ren's hair – but not trying to move him away, not at all. Ren sucks the little bud between his lips, kissing and nibbling it until Hux is shaking in his arms, making the most wonderful sounds, his cock bobbing against Ren's abs.

Then he switches sides, caressing the other nipple with the same diligent, thorough focus. Hux's ass squeezes around him as tingles spread through his whole body. He's stopped riding Ren, too distracted, and is just grinding down, hips rocking in little circles that press Ren's cock against his prostate.

With a soft cry, he wraps his legs around Ren's waist, clutching him tightly, begging him without words to help him, to keep giving him this awful, wonderful stimulation. Ren growls his assent, not letting up as he plays with Hux's nipple. It's pebbled in his mouth, hard and straining like his cock, and right now capable of delivering almost as much pleasure.

He wants to do both at once, he's certain Hux will light up like a plasma cannon if he does, but he needs his hands to keep Hux in place... So he reaches out with the Force, brushing softly over Hux's other nipple, circling it, teasing it, and _fuck_ he was right – Hux screams his name, body throbbing, trying and failing to stop himself coming.

He starts to spill on their bellies, Ren's ridged with muscle, his own softer and slightly swollen, and Ren switches sides, swapping the Force tendril for his tongue, not letting up, driving him harder, drawing his climax out to impossible lengths.

Hux's pleasure shudders through him, tightens his balls, smashing the fragile hold Ren had on his knot, and he crushes Hux to him as it starts to expand. He growls against Hux's chest, still trying to hold on, still trying to make it last a bit longer, but it's a lost cause.

He comes with a strangled shout, knot popping. It's like everything he feels is pouring into his omega, without restraint or restriction, and it's _okay_ because he's getting the same back from Hux, an answering wave of adoration and affection that makes him _warm_ , really warm, for the first time in years.

When Hux starts trying, weakly, to drag his head away from his too-sensitive nipple, he gives it a last kiss and lets him, dispelling the Force-caress at the same time. The fingers tangled in his hair guide him back to the crook of Hux's neck, so that he's breathing in that lovely scent. He mouths over the scent glands, jaw aching with the urge to claim his omega.

For an instant, bonding Hux seems like the perfect solution – they'd never hurt each other, they'd have this closeness all the time… But that's not why Hux put him here, or not exactly. It's just an omega instinct to keep the sire of his newly-conceived child close, to forge a bond that would ensure they protected him and their progeny.

Again, it's something that Hux has never let himself act on with any other alpha. He trusts Ren not to bite. So Ren doesn't. He takes a deep breath, nuzzling into Hux's skin, reassuring him.

He isn't sure if it's a vision of the future, or just wishful thinking, but he's certain that one day Hux will be entirely his, that he'll wear Ren's bitemark below his collar, share his bed every night, and their bond will be unshakeable. But he _can't_ do that now, he has to wait until Hux is ready, until he can accept him.

The way Hux is rhythmically carding his fingers through his hair feels like being kneaded by a cat, and Ren recalls the start of the heat, when he compared Hux to a feral loth-cat, hissing with mistrust and swiping at him, claws bared. And now he's sitting in Ren's lap and letting him stroke his back in slow, soothing movements.

As he watches the contented swirl of Hux's thoughts, he finally picks up what Hux likes about his hair. It's not regulation. It's a visible sign that Ren doesn't belong to the First Order, doesn't answer to them. He's something else. Some wild creature that Hux's heat has tamed, albeit temporarily. Ren almost laughs – he was just thinking something similar about Hux.

“I never imagined you'd be this good,” sighs Hux. Ren's eyebrows go up at the insult, but, oh, there's something _much_ more important than being offended.

“...You imagined this?” Hux's body freezes. “You imagined me serving you?” Hux can't even blame him for eavesdropping on that – he said it aloud. Ren hears a very quiet 'fuck' above his head.

“Even before you saw my face,” he carries on, and now he _is_ picking the thoughts right out of Hux's brain. “Even when you assumed the mask was to hide some horrific disfigurement, you still wondered what I'd be like, in your bed.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Hux mutters, trying not to sound like he's scrabbling for a defence. “You're the most obnoxiously _alpha_ alpha on the Finalizer. Of course I imagined it.”

It wasn't something he _wanted_ in any way, just a curiosity his omega side threw up while he was calculating the cost of replacing panelling that Ren had destroyed. He'd assumed Ren would be an inconsiderate partner. And then he'd resented wasting any time making that assumption. Dealing with Ren, his temper and his unmuted scent all shift had given him a headache. He blames that for the lapse.

Ren leans back, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I'm flattered.”

“That I thought you'd be a terrible lay?”

“That you _don't_ think that anymore.”

“Well. You won't find it flattering very shortly.”

Ren groans. This again. “We still have to get out of here,” he says, squeezing Hux. “Even I'm not unstable enough to jeopardise that.”

He wants to delay Hux worrying about his impending death, at least until Ren's hormones have stabilised and he can establish whether he _does_ want to murder Hux. He can't fully discount the possibility of Hux being right, not yet.

Hux is stiff and awkward in his arms. He's removed his hands from Ren's hair, and Ren already misses them.

“How long before we're fully back to normal?”

A bitter laugh. “ _Normal_. Right.” Hux doesn't think 'normal' will be an option, after this.

“Just in terms of hormones,” says Ren, rolling his eyes.

“They should level off in few hours.”

“Okay.”

With gentle pressure, he tugs Hux flush against him again, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around them as their sex-heated bodies cool. Hux sighs, realising there's no point in protesting, not while they're still tied. For now at least, having Ren so close and solid and warm is a comfort, though he feels pitiful for clinging to it.

Ren ignores the half-formed, anxious thoughts circling Hux's head, like scavengers waiting to descend. He just breathes him in and touches his skin and tries to cement the best moments of this heat, sensing he'll need to draw on them when Hux starts really irritating him again.

“What's our best bet for getting off this icy rock?” he asks eventually.

Hux clears his throat, refocusing. “Two main options. Most likely is that we manage to find a comms system that can send a signal to the First Order. And by 'find', I mean 'repair', obviously. It's also possible we could find a ship with intact fuel cells and a working hyperdrive, but… well, _I_ would have thoroughly disabled any remaining ships, if I were in General Veers' position. You don't leave terrorists anything worth coming back for, when you flush them out of a hiding place.”

Ren hums in agreement. “I found the command centre already – most of the comms equipment will be in there. We crashed through one of the hangars, and there basically wasn't anything left in—”

“Wait, we crashed through a hangar?”

“You were knocked out inside a wampa corpse at the time...” Belatedly, he remembers that all Hux has seen of Echo Base is this bunk room and the fresher ten steps down the tunnel.

“Explain.”

“…I was trying to sense a way in. I found the hollow space of a hangar, and yanked the cover open while I was standing on it, okay?” Hux snorts a laugh. “The situation was urgent,” he says, pouting.

“Fair point. You said _one of_ the hangars – there’s more, right?”

“There must be. The Rebellion had transport ships, and the one we came in through was too small for anything bigger than a fighter.”

Hux nods. “I'll investigate the command centre, you find the hangars,” he decides, thinking that Ren's a good enough pilot to at least establish whether ships are sky-worthy. Ren bristles a little at being ordered around... Huh.

It doesn't escape his notice that Hux has proposed they split up, hoping weakly that if he's not _present_ when Ren's anger returns, he might escape bearing the brunt of it.

As Hux shifts in his lap, Ren's knot finally deflates, his cock slipping out, and for a moment he feels adrift without that intimate connection between them. Hux pats his shoulder, reminding him to release him, and clambers to his feet, quickly finding his clothes and redressing, ignoring the stale smell of heat and wampa. Ren tries not to watch as pale skin vanishes beneath the black uniform.

“Look out for tools and power sources as well – fuel cells, batteries, a generator ideally,” Hux is saying. “I suspect there's not much to be done with the comms system without power. And I'll need lights,” he adds, like an afterthought. “You can see in the dark, right?” He's remembering that Ren left the lamp behind when he went to gather supplies.

“That's not how… It's not _sight_ exactly,” he says, as he fails to get his trousers on without removing his boots.

“You can, then,” says Hux. “But _I_ can't, and that poor thing has not got much juice left.” He jerks a thumb at the trusty lamp hanging on the wall. It's certainly dimmer than a few hours ago.

“Which way is the command centre?” Hux asks, when his belt is cinched around his waist. Ren finishes fastening his tunic and steps closer. He's glad Hux doesn't flinch, though he can tell it's a conscious effort not to.

“Close your eyes.” Hux does, though warily. Ren brings a hand up beside Hux's temple, carefully pushing the layout of the base – the bits he's found, anyway – into Hux's mind. That might help him a bit, if the lamp does give out. His eyes flicker under their lids as he runs through the map. His eyelashes are so pale… Ren _doesn't_ brush them, he makes himself move away, heading for the door.

He wants to delay their separation somehow, insist that they should stick together while searching, maybe make up some bullshit excuse about it being dangerous. But Hux will see right through that – if Ren knew there were some inherent danger here, he couldn't have let Hux leave his side at all during the heat.

Before he can open the door, Hux clamps a hand on his wrist. “Ren,” he says.

“What?”

The ginger man's face pinches, like he's struggling to make himself speak. “Thank you.” He gestures towards the rumpled camp bed. “For… yeah. And for not being an asshole about it.”

Ren smiles. “You too.”

“Me?”

“You could have made it a much worse experience, for both of us, but you didn't.”

After a moment, Hux nods. “However much we end up regretting it, I just wanted to tell you.”

He draws himself up to his full height, conversation over, and marches out of the room. Ren rolls his eyes, calling the lamp to him and passing it to Hux, who has stalled in the darkness of the tunnel.

“Yes, well,” he says, annoyed that he messed up his dramatic exit. He stalks off towards the command centre, refusing to look back.

Ren goes the opposite way, following the tunnel past the fresher and into the unknown. More sections of the wall and ceiling have caved in, and he skirts carefully around them. He would probably sense any areas of fragility before they collapsed, but there's no reason to stomp around and _provoke_ an avalanche.

He passes plenty more bunk chambers, as well as storage rooms and freshers, but the only thing of interest is another portable lamp. The bulb is smashed, so he just pries the battery out and pockets it.

He goes right at the first fork he encounters, and as the air gets chillier, he realises he's approaching the open hangar. Fresh air feels so good, after days cooped up in their stuffy nest, saturated by their combined scent.

The first thing he notices is that the wampa corpse is gone. Well. Mostly gone. There are a few bones and tufts of hair left, a few streaks of red in the snow. And there are large tracks in the mound of snow that fell in with them.

Thank the stars whatever devoured it left afterwards. He would have sensed anything approaching them, and he's certain he could have killed it, even while tied to Hux, but it's much better that he didn't have to. His omega probably wouldn't have reacted well to an interrupting predator, or to Ren squeezing the life out of it with the Force.

Ren can't help feeling he left the corpse as some kind of offering, though he knows he just plain forgot to dispose of it.

Natural light is a nice change too. He can't determine the time, but he recently woke up, so it _feels_ like morning. The sky overhead is nearly cloudless, and it's bright enough that he can let his eyes take over seeing for a while.

Focusing, he carefully lifts as much snow as possible, sending it up through the opening and dumping it outside. By now he's had a lot of practice manipulating snow, but it's still a challenging texture to work with – less solid, less cohesive than most materials.

He had to treat Hux with a similar gentleness, when he brought him off with the Force, and Ren immediately wishes his brain hadn't thrown out that comparison. He'd always thought Hux was like ice – cold, sharp, slippery, biting – but maybe snow makes more sense… Just as cold, but softer, more fragile.

Ren shakes his head to dislodge the mental images. He scans the now-empty hangar, finding it really is _empty_. A cursory poke around the berths reveals nothing except some stepladders, spent fuel cells and other worthless debris. He does spot the remnants of Hux's greatcoat – it got pulverised by whatever ate the wampa – so he chucks that outside too. Hux doesn't need to see it.

He picks the last tunnel leading out of the hangar, the one he's not taken yet, and follows it for maybe half a klick before it becomes entirely blocked with snow. He _could_ blast through it – that would be a satisfyingly violent way to unleash the Force – but he might damage whatever's on the other side.

Beyond the cave-in, he can feel a hollow space the same size and shape as the hangar they broke into. That makes sense, given this tunnel is about twice the size of the others – probably it was dug wider to allow bulkier cargo to move between hangars.

Ren makes himself take the time to press the snow back against the walls, gradually clearing a gap. The ceiling won't re-form properly, so he just holds it up long enough to slip through, then lets it collapse again with a quiet ‘whumpf’.

This hangar is mostly free of snow, but the covers are shut tight and it's pitch black, like most of the base. Ren sends his senses into the space, mapping it, feeling for anything useful. No vehicles of any kind, let alone ships, but in one of the empty berths there's some kind of droid? An astromech – R5, judging from the bucket-shaped head.

He investigates, noticing a wheel and most of a leg are missing, and as soon as he uncouples it from the dock it was sitting in, it topples over. It doesn't seem to be much damaged otherwise. It must have been a spare, left behind in the rebels' rush to escape.

He presses some of its switches and buttons, not really expecting anything – astromechs are built sturdy, but R2-D2's only lasted as long as he has because of careful maintenance. One of the droid's lights flickers on, and it beeps, but mechanically – this one's AI has long since degraded without use. Still though, if it has power…

He's been able to hear the patter of Hux's thoughts, as he pokes around the command centre. The heat isn't forcing him to, not anymore, but it's probably responsible for the irritating feeling that he _should_ listen in, just _in case_ something happens.

Hux has righted most of the equipment, found at least one terminal that should work, if it had power, and determined that several others are lost causes. He's also muttering something about cable management.

Ren finds himself smiling. Hux has a unique kind of focus, when he's dealing with engineering problems – it might be a bit meditative for him, just having one, concrete task to tackle, something he can sink all his effort into, instead of spreading his concentration around the myriad systems and subordinates on the Finalizer.

 _< Hux>_ he calls gently, ignoring how glad he is to have an excuse to reach for him.

In the command centre, Hux spins round, heart in his throat, fingers already on his blaster. Ren wasn't _trying_ to startle him, but he'd known suddenly speaking to Hux would make him jump, there was no way around that.

 _< Is this any use?>_ He shows Hux what he can 'see' of the droid. When he feels Hux trying to focus on one of its panels, he obediently prises it open. Inside there are a bunch of ports and connectors.

 _< Yes, that could work>_ Hux is about to remind him to look for tools as well, but he curtails the thought before he can project it. If Ren forgets, well, he'll have something to gripe at him about.

_< Very mature, General>_

Hux winces. _< You want me to nag you? Nagging was always so productive>_

Ren can't exactly deny that the more times Hux told him about a meeting, the less likely he was to show up. Now, from the currents beneath what Hux is saying, he can tell that Hux figured out that pattern long ago, and makes a point to remind him about meetings he _doesn't_ want Ren to attend.

He pokes around the hangar a bit longer, and does find a toolkit hidden in a pile of clutter. Given the comatose droid isn’t going to roll anywhere, he lifts it with the Force and tows it down an uninvestigated tunnel. This one only has minor cave-ins, and it's not long before it joins up with the one he recognises as the 'residential' tunnel, with most of the bunk chambers coming off it.

He follows it towards the command centre, or towards Hux, more accurately – he can feel his presence like the tiny guide-light on the tip of a fighter's wing. Idly, he wonders whether this will last, once they're back on board the Finalizer, if he'll always be automatically aware of the man's location. It would serve him right for putting a tracker on Ren.

Hux pops up from behind a console when Ren stomps into the chamber, shoving his hair back with one hand. He _really_ hates it being in his face.

“Bring it round here,” he orders, because 'please' is a word he can apparently only muster during sex. Ren scowls at him, but does float the droid to where Hux is pointing.

“Found tools,” he adds, dumping the box on the floor with a rattle.

“Excellent.” As Hux steps over something to reach for them, he trips, stumbling against the wall. Ren frowns, wondering what's wrong with him. Has he forgotten about food? But no, there's a half-eaten ration bar on the console.

Then he realises how dark it is. The single lamp is dim and flickering, clearly running on dregs. Ren holds Hux still while he changes the battery, ostensibly to stop him tripping over again, but mainly to piss him off.

“I don't need you to coddle me,” he growls. But he doesn't try to move in Ren's Force-grip, and Ren can feel his grudging relief when the lamp comes back on, brighter than before.

“Anything else you _do_ need?” he asks, releasing Hux.

“I take it you haven't found a ship?”

Ren's jaw tightens. “Not yet.”

“Then no.” Hux turns to the droid, crouching down to examine it. And just like that, Ren is dismissed.

He's too close to Hux before he even realises he's moved, looming over him.

“Don't,” Ren whispers, but he can't finish the sentence. Don't order me around? Don't be so confrontational, abrupt, rude? Don't try to dismiss everything we shared as quickly as you dismissed me?

For an instant Hux freezes, unsure whether Ren looks stricken or furious, but then his face softens, just a bit.

“It'll get easier,” he says quietly. And underneath, he's thinking that maybe Ren is so needlessly emotional because he's picking up the feelings of everyone else in his proximity.

Maybe he's struggling now, not just because he hasn't been through a heat before, but because _Hux_ is struggling, too.

Ren turns away before he can sweep Hux into a hug. They're done with that. They have to be.

Anger at his own confusion and weakness propels him forward, and he barely notices as the floor and walls of the tunnel start to become more rock than snow. The sound of his boots on stone instead of plyboard brings him back to himself, and he recalls what he'd seen from the surface – shallow ridges of rock flanking Echo Base, growing into imposing mountains beyond.

It probably used to be a more pronounced – and strategically useful – valley, but decades of snow drifts have almost erased it. The base must have been tacked on to an existing cave system, he thinks, as the neat lines of the snow tunnels give way to winding, irregular rock.

He rounds a corner, and senses the cavernous space before him. Okay, _this_ is the main hangar, a huge natural cave, the mouth almost completely blocked with snow. Skeletons of disused vehicles lurk in the dark, amongst the strewn debris of crates, cables, weapons.

There's a curious energy left here, despite the stuffy stillness – this was the most frantic location during the battle, dozens of people, full of terror and determined hope, loading transports, preparing fighters, running, always running... Their echoes fill the place, even worse than the command centre.

As he stalks through the cave, he passes the empty space that was once the Falcon. He doesn't turn to look.

Instead, he gathers up his cresting irritation, bundling it into a wave that slams into the snow, unleashing the full extent of his power to blast the cave mouth clear. There's a startling relief to letting loose like that. Light and cold spill in immediately, flooding the space, remaking it.

And the hangar is quiet, after, as if he exorcised all the ghosts, pushed them out with the snow. The only ones left are those that he – or Ben – brought with them.

He stands in the cave mouth, letting his eyes adjust, drinking in the snow plain that stretches out into the distance. Then he turns to start picking through the dregs left behind by the Rebellion.

There are only four ships. One is a husk, with no sub-light thrusters and no hyperdrive – it'll never move anywhere, let alone space. Two of the others appear more promising, but when he clambers inside, the cockpits have been methodically shot to pieces. Hux was correct – the Imperial forces did indeed disable any remaining rebel ships.

The last is an X-wing, so it would only seat one person anyway… Ren waits for the idea of leaving Hux behind to seem appealing, but it doesn't.

He jumps up on the nose, about to open the cockpit cover, when he notices that it's been bisected. By a lightsaber. He'd recognise the cut's jagged, slightly melted edges anywhere.

His mind goes to Luke, initially, but then another answer swamps him. His grandfather was here, on Hoth. He walked these tunnels, in the wake of the attack… His family never mentioned that. Maybe they didn't realise Darth Vader himself was among the Imperial forces? Surely Luke would have known, even untrained?

He runs gloved fingertips over the lightsaber scar. The remnants of Vader's anger awe him. The helmet that Ren keeps in his quarters resonates with it, of course, but as he grew stronger in the dark side, he found it tinged with regret too, for the loss of his omega, his mate, that cemented his path. This, here, in the icy cavern of Echo Base, this is pure rage. This is a hated enemy slipping through his grasp. It's... beautiful, in its purity.

He's not sure how long he's spent, kneeling here, communing with the past, when a gust of frigid air whips through his clothes, bringing him back. He pushes aside the almost-memories, examining the X-wing properly. The damage looks superficial, but only until he spots the melted bore-hole right through the console. Flying off-planet themselves is out.

He makes another tour around the hangar, wanting to be thorough but no longer actually hoping to find something useful, amongst the junk and the snow drifts. Rey was a scavenger, he thinks sourly, she'd be in her element here.

He does uncover a couple of battered speeders. One is an airspeeder that looks like it skidded into the cave and brought a support beam down on itself – perhaps pilots dashing for the last evacuation transport.

The other is... a 74-Z? Seriously? Why a _bike_? No matter how well-insulated you were, you couldn't ride one of those things on Hoth – you'd freeze solid. When he inspects it, he finds it hasn't been adapted for the cold at all – the rebels never intended to use it.

Neither of the speeders start, when he tries the throttles. It hardly matters. Hoth is utterly barren, there's nowhere else to _go_ , even if they had ground transportation.

As he makes the decision to give up, hoping that Hux will have better luck than him, he feels a vicious spark of victory from the man himself. When Ren tunes in properly, he finds that he's managed to connect the droid to one of the terminals and power it on. That's it. That's all. But it's a first step, and he's been trying for a couple of hours just to get this far.

Hux has far more patience and perseverance than him. He'll find a solution. The General knows he's letting himself get caught up in the puzzle to help ignore his concerns over Ren's upcoming wrath, and _his_ upcoming death. But to stand any chance of getting out of here, he needs to be able to comm someone, so he might as well pursue this.

After the fresh air billowing into the hangar, the tunnels seem even stuffier, and his own body smells more pungent. Ren thinks of the bath, still stood in their nest, full of cold, grimy water. Yes. Fuck yes. He almost thanks whichever rebel had the ingenuity to fashion a bathtub, but it could have been Han. It's the sort of thing he'd have done to annoy _Princess_ Leia.

He re-examines the rest of the bunk chambers one by one, finally rounding up two complete sets of off-white clothing, including goggles and gloves. The material smells like it was clean thirty years ago. So not great. But importantly, _not_ like stale slick and heat. And they'll certainly be better suited to Hoth's climate than their First Order uniforms.

He dumps the pile of clothing in a corner of the fresher block, near where he'd found the bathtub, and spots a bottle that could be soap. He can't read whatever language it's labelled in, but there's a faded picture of a waterfall on the front. No towels of course, as it's mainly sonic showers, so he backtracks and snags a couple of blankets for drying off.

Then he braves fetching the bathtub. The air in the nest is still humid from their combined body heat, so the water hasn't frozen. There's a layer of wampa scum floating on top, most of which came out of Hux's hair, he remembers. He picks up the tub, careful to keep it level, and floats it down to the open hangar, tipping the water outside, far enough away that it shouldn't drip into the base. He drags the tub through the snow like an oversize ice cream scoop, and then returns to the fresher with his prize.

As he's spreading warmth into the snow, watching it melt, it occurs to him to feel a little sorry for people who don't have access to the Force. Hux's general resentment almost makes sense, when he considers the effort the man would have to apply to draw a bath for himself, under these circumstances.

Ren strips off and sinks into the blissfully warm water, letting it soak away the lingering filth and aches from his body. The possibly-soap bottle is out of reach, so he calls it to him. So easy. Just a flicker of concentration. Poor Hux would have had to get fully out of the bath, naked and shivering in the cold. It's been a long time since he truly appreciated the Force, and this is such a petty thing to be glad about, but he is.

Using his abilities to indulge Hux had felt fucking incredible, and Hux knows no one but Ren will be able to restrain him and touch him and _pleasure_ him so completely. He could try to recreate it, if he ever found a lover he could trust (hah!), but it would be a feeble imitation of Ren's perfect control.

Without conscious direction, Ren's hand has wrapped around his cock as it perks up, stroking below the water. He's not sure how he could have anything left, after being wrung out for three days, but it isn't long before he comes, to the memory of Hux clinging to him, warm and trembling and desperate.

Well.

That's a really bad sign.

He shouldn't be fantasizing about Hux. He shouldn't be hoping Hux will fantasise about _him_. He groans, disgusted with himself. At least he caught most of his emission in his other hand, and he wipes it on his discarded pants. Come on. Focus. But as he's scrubbing his skin, he notices a purple bruise on his biceps, and… teeth marks? When did—

He was spooned up behind Hux, knot trapping him in place, teasing his little cock until the man bit down on his arm in punishing frustration. He touches the bruise idly, enjoying the dull pain. Did he leave any marks on Hux? He hopes so...

When he finally gets round to opening the bottle, the contents smell nice, in a floral way. The odds of it being a dangerous chemical are pretty low, given the Rebellion was mostly humans, so he squirts a generous handful and massages it into his hair.

It's tricky _not_ to imagine Hux's hands running through the strands, or that pleased little noise he sometimes made, but Ren manages. He ducks under the water, rinsing off as best he can, and then stands up. Stars, it's cold in here. He wraps a blanket around himself, drying off briskly.

The chance of accidentally projecting his sexual thoughts to Hux was small, but not zero, so he doesn't dare reach for him again until he's fully dressed, the pilfered clothes a bit too tight around his chest and thighs.

There's a kind of strung-out fervour thrumming in Hux's mind, when Ren touches it. He's had no luck getting any comms systems operational, and he's running out of things to try. For an instant, Ren feels guilty for enjoying a relaxing bath while Hux works, but he couldn't have helped. Hux would have snapped at him for being in the way.

He carries the now-cool bathwater back to the hangar and dumps it. Above him, the sky is dark, stars obscured by scudding clouds. On the spur of the moment, he decides to let Hux have a bath too. Clearly he's going to have to intervene, or the man will work himself to exhaustion. Plus, if Hux has a bath, he'll smell less like frantic heat-sex... which is at once appealing and appalling. Ren refills the bathtub, heats it, and heads for the command centre.

It takes him a moment to locate Hux – he's slumped on the floor, back against a console, staring up at a flickering display. He resists the urge to scoop him up in his arms, instead peering at the screen. There's a single flashing dot, near the edge. Hux appraises him, taking in his new outfit, his changed scent, his damp hair.

“You had a bath?”

“Yeah.” Ren knows his ears stick out, thanks.

“So glad you had a productive day.” There's more of Hux's usual bite to that.

“I was going to offer you one, but if you insist on being rude…” He _wants_ Hux to be rude. He needs to be reminded that he does _not_ like this man.

“You look like a proper son of the Rebellion, in that getup,” Hux comments, which is _perfect_.

The General isn't familiar with Kashyyyk offensive gestures, so the one Ren makes falls a little flat.

“Any luck with the ships?” asks Hux, sweetly. He already knows the answer – he predicted it.

“No,” says Ren shortly. “Any luck with the comms?”

“No.”

“What's that on the screen?”

“Our last hope.” Ren frowns at him. Has his mind fractured? Hux doesn't go in for cryptic bullshit.

Finally, Hux seems to pull himself together, levering himself up to standing. He's cold, Ren realises, especially his fingers and toes. And he's sore. And tired. He's been fighting through the aftermath of his heat, throwing everything he has left at this problem.

“It's a probe droid,” says Hux, pointing to the dot. “One of the ones that found the rebel base. It's still active, still sending out a signal to a dead Empire. I can probably reprogram it to a First Order frequency – if we can get there.”

“If? How far away is it?”

Hux pulls a face. “A hundred klicks.” Too far to travel on foot, even with Ren's powers.

“Speeders,” he says, suddenly. “There were some speeders in the main hangar – all busted, but maybe…”

Relief and determination almost make Hux smile. “Maybe I can fix one.” He grabs the lamp and the toolkit, but Ren stops him before he can march off.

“Hux, you're exhausted. It's night, not that you realise. Get some rest and deal with the speeder tomorrow.”

“But—” Ren closes his mouth, gently.

“I'm not arguing about this. If you make a mistake, we'll be done for.”

Hux is glaring at him, unable to retort. Ren waits until the desire to say something scathing has receded, and then releases him.

“I really did draw you a bath.” Hux's eyebrows go up, but he just nods, putting the toolkit down with obvious reluctance, and heading for the fresher.

Ren follows him, but only because the bunk rooms are the same direction. He clocked one earlier that had intact beds, but he makes another stop by the nest to grab the water jugs and remaining food.

It occurs to him that _he_ hasn't eaten today, so he chases a ration bar with more koyo fruit. They have enough left for a few days, if they're careful – but if they can't get a signal out, if the Finalizer doesn't respond, their situation will get dicey.

He's deliberately tuned out all but Hux's surface emotions, aware he'd do something stupid if he heard Hux fantasizing like _he_ had. He can sense that he's appreciating the bath, but nothing specific.

He clears a bed in the new chamber, shaking out some blankets and lying down, ignoring the fact that he's making a warm place for his omega to sleep – and the much more alarming fact that he still thinks of Hux as _his_ omega.

When Hux's feedback switches to disdain, probably for the rebel clothing he knows he has to put on, Ren sends him the impression of which bunk room he's in. A few minutes later, he stomps in, swinging the lamp round to get his bearings. He leaves it propped on a crate, and starts lifting the clutter off another camp bed.

“Hux, what are you doing?”

“Going to bed.”

“Get over here.”

Hux gives him a baleful stare.

“These rooms are meant to have eight bodies in them. Without the extra warmth from your heat – or related activities – it'll be too cold unless we share.”

Hux supposes it makes sense that Ren doesn't want him to freeze to death before he can secure an escape route.

He gestures impatiently when the man doesn't budge. “I can _make_ you join me, but I'd rather not have to.”

Still scowling, Hux finally gives in, arranging himself on the narrow camp bed so he's facing away from Ren, awkward and tense. He wants Ren to put his back to him, and he also wants Ren to wrap his arms around him and hold him close and give him as much of his body heat as possible.

Ren closes his eyes in relief – Hux is still struggling, the same as him. He's got remnants of his omega desires flitting around in his brain, and Ren acting considerate isn't helping to dispel them. The bath, the clothes – which _are_ appreciably warmer, despite being musty with age – even the _respite_. He'd thought Ren would insist he worked as fast as possible on getting them off Hoth, eager to be able to dispose of him.

Ren sighs, curling up behind Hux, cradling his body. Clearly Hux came to the same conclusion as him, about the mysterious bottle, because his hair smells like it. He's pushed it back into an approximation of his usual, slicked-back style, while it dries.

The soap didn’t have scent blocker in, so although it takes a moment, underneath the florals he can pick out Hux's soft, omega scent. All omegas smell good, Ren tells himself. It's _not_ that he likes Hux's scent particularly – he just has limited basis for comparison.

And he _didn't_ make Hux stop working so they could spend one more night together like this. Definitely not.

Hux is an expert at forging on, even when his mind and body are about to break, and his thoughts are still busy speculating about the possible state of the speeders, what repairs he'll be able to make and how long they could take…

“Shall I put you to sleep?” Ren asks, surrounding Hux's mind with the Force, pressing a little.

“No!” Hux splutters, around a burst of instinctive panic.

“You need rest.”

“I _am_ resting.”

“You need sleep, then,” says Ren patiently.

“Just stay out of my head. You must be able to by now.”

“If I do, you'll start plotting against me.”

An awkward pause. “I won't.” There's no spirit in that.

“You thought about stabbing me literally this morning, before your heat was even over.”

“That was just…” Hux trails off. Just curiosity. Not a viable plot. But he _has_ been wondering about the possibility of disposing of Ren somehow, on and off throughout the day.

Luckily, he's pretty much concluded that it wouldn't help in the long term, even if he came up with a workable method – he can't go back without Ren. The Order would be sceptical that _Hux_ survived where Ren didn't, though he could probably mollify them by claiming Ren abandoned him to run off on some hare-brained 'mission'.

Snoke, though… That wouldn't fool the old crone. He'd know what happened the minute he spoke to Hux.

“He's far more adept at reading minds than I am, even remotely,” says Ren, making Hux flinch.

“I keep forgetting,” he hisses. “I _keep_ forgetting you're snooping on everything I think.” He's more angry at himself than at Ren. He's a strategic genius – he shouldn't be forgetting a factor that crucial when trying to outmanoeuvre his opponent.

“This is what I meant, when I said you're exhausted and you need sleep,” Ren chides.

“Oh, you think I'll be able to outwit you in the morning?” he snaps.

“No. I've been in your head for three days. Remember I told you mind reading is easier the better you know someone? By now, it's no effort at all to monitor you.”

“Maybe you're bluffing,” says Hux, but he doesn't think it's likely.

“I'm not. Don't waste your energy on plotting.”

Hux is very still, beside him. During the heat, Ren's presence in his mind had felt inexplicably comforting, but now it makes him queasy. All his life, his head has been a sanctuary where he can indulge his spite and resentment and irritation, while his outward behaviour remains faultless. Now, Ren's invaded it, turned it into a fishbowl that puts his every movement on display.

“Hux,” Ren starts, not sure whether he means to reassure him or not.

“Fuck you, Ren,” says Hux, acidly.

Ren chuckles. “I mean, that's still on the table, if you want to go again?”

“What.”

“You know, a good, straightforward hate-fuck. Might give you an outlet for some of that impotent anger...”

Hux's lip curls in disgust, Ren can practically _feel_ it.

“Can I top you?” he snarls. Oh. That's a surprise. Hux said it mainly because he hoped Ren would blanch at the idea, but there's a flicker of genuine curiosity underneath.

“Your cock's pretty small,” says Ren, pretending to consider it seriously, “but we'd still need lube, and I didn't find any.”

Hux snorts. “Never mind, then. Honestly, I'd rather stick my dick in a rancor than you.” Ren recognises that this sort of childish comment would usually make his blood boil, but he can tell Hux is just lashing out because he has no other options.

“Liar.” Ren sends him a vivid mental image of a rancor's puckered, slimy mouth and uneven teeth, dangerously close to his vulnerable private parts, and is delighted when Hux shudders.

“Fuck y— Fuck _off_ ,” he finishes, conceding defeat. He's pissed. He can't win when Ren has so many advantages over him.

Not for the first time, Ren wonders why he doesn't use his omega traits to 'encourage' Ren to cooperate with him. Ren doesn't want to admit that it would probably work very well on him, given his lack of experience with omegas. Just the soothing tone would be a valuable weapon, for a General smart enough to employ it effectively, and Hux is certainly that.

But he keeps his omega side as hidden as possible, even now, when he thinks he has so little to lose. What had he said, back in that ice cave? Something about the stereotypes and assumptions being unhelpful. At the time, that hadn't felt like the whole truth, and Ren's willing to bet that the rest of it is leftover shame, instilled by Commandant Brendol Hux in his roles as both father and educator.

Whatever. He's hardly about to mention it to Hux. He's not dumb enough to give him ideas.

Ren reaches for the lamp, flicking it off so that the room is plunged into darkness. There's an objection on the tip of Hux's tongue, but he swallows it – he knows Ren is right, that he's on the verge of not being able to think properly at all, and sleep is the only thing that will help him recover his faculties.

But it still takes him so long to fall asleep that he almost wishes he'd accepted Ren's offer to knock him out.

* * *

_< Ren!>_

He catapults back to wakefulness with his own name echoing in his head.

_< Ren!>_

_< Kriffing— _What _, Hux? >_

_< I need a hand digging this speeder out>_

Belatedly, he realises Hux isn't in bed with him anymore. He's in the main hangar, projecting confusing images of a speeder, half-buried under a mound of rubble and snow.

Groaning, Ren throws his boots and new clothes on. He tried the speeder yesterday, the throttle was still reachable – Hux must have decided this one will be easiest to get working again. He's a bit relieved to feel no panic or worry over Hux being gone – this time there's just annoyance at being so rudely woken.  
  
From the pale pink glow of the sky, it's not long after dawn. Hux can't have slept more than a few hours, but he seems chipper. He's cleared some of the smaller debris that was covering the T-47's back half, and is now bent over the cockpit, rummaging for something.

His ass is _just_ the right height for Ren to pull his pants down and sink inside him, do a little rummaging of his own... Ren slaps himself, mentally, wiping all traces of that thought off his face before Hux notices him.

The man extracts himself, wiping his hands on a rag, taking in Ren's dishevelled appearance. He's sadistically pleased to have woken him – and disappointed that being able to do so pretty much confirms Ren _is_ still in his head.

“Grab the other cannon barrel,” he says, pointing. “We might be able to drag it out.”

Ren gives him a long look.

“What?”

He gestures, lifting the support beam that's pinning the speeder, and pulling the machine free. Hux steps smartly out of the way, so he can set it down in a clear area of the hangar.

“You forgot I can do that? You remembered I can hear all your thoughts but you forgot _that_?”

Hux's cheeks darken, but he holds his ground. “I'm hardly as well acquainted with your magic powers as you.”

Ren opens his mouth to remind Hux that he is, in fact, _intimately_ acquainted with his 'magic powers', but they might as well practice _not_ bringing up the heat. The last thing he wants is for Hux to comment on how _willingly_ Ren served him, especially in front of Snoke.

Hux circles the speeder, glad he was correct, and the beam hadn't crushed the thrusters or fins. He jimmies the repair access hatch open, setting his tools on the dented wing and angling the lamp inside. Ren leaves him to it, not asking how long it will take to fix – Hux has no idea, he only just started assessing it.

The wind is eddying into the cave, dragging little flurries of snow with it. For a while, Ren amuses himself by drawing them into coils and spirals, until behind him, Hux's shivering really starts to grate.

Annoyed, and not quite sure why, he puts a shield across the cave entrance, a veil that allows air through, but only at low velocity. Hux glances up as the wind abruptly cuts off, looking between Ren and the mouth of the cave as if he could _see_ the barrier. He nods once, and then turns back to the speeder.

There's nothing else for Ren to usefully _do_ , so he falls back on meditation. He knows his mind is undisciplined – Snoke has warned him many times that his lack of mental fortitude will limit the depths he can reach, in the dark side. He's too quickly distracted, too quickly enraged, and both contributed to his defeat at the scavenger girl's hands, almost as much as her omega scent, or that awful cry.

He leaps gracefully back onto the nose of the X-wing, touching the lightsaber cut reverently, and arranges himself so that he's sitting cross-legged, back straight. For a moment, Hux is annoyed that Ren plans to just loom over him like a gargoyle, but he's performed under scrutiny and the threat of demotion before. The threat of _death_ isn't that much worse, for him.

Ren smirks, a slightly morbid idea occurring to him. What would he have to do, to make _Hux_ make that 'don't hurt me' cry? He's heard it once, when Hux was trying to stop Ren approaching him before his heat, but all the other times he's threatened or abused Hux, the man has kept quiet.

To be fair, he probably _can't_ use it while Ren is choking him… But there are other ways to cause distress. And it would be useful to practice resisting it... There's a twinge of protest from his alpha side, but he dismisses it for now, drawing his focus away from the clanking below his perch.

When he meditates, he either turns his mind outward, reaching as far as he can, or inward, to examine his own memories and emotions. But there is a third goal, a state of continuing awareness – knowing, understanding, accepting everything that surrounds you, but not allowing it to provoke a reaction. It's difficult to master and difficult to maintain, but also incalculably valuable.

He’s achieved that state before, when Snoke sent him to train on barely-inhabited planets – it’s comparatively easy without the pressure or presence of sentient beings around. Under his master's guidance, he had tuned out his own body's demands for food, water, warmth, sleep, oxygen, reducing them to informative data, rather than distractions.

On the Supremacy, or even the Finalizer, it was so much harder. Battleships are full of currents of emotion from too many cooped-up soldiers. Even at the shallowest level, it's too much for his mind to catalogue, but he keeps practicing. Once he's stronger, he'll be able to feel and root out the first stirrings of dissent, before anything as inconvenient as FN-2187's desertion happens.

Hoth presents different challenges. Hux, obviously – he's causing severe ripples, in Ren's meditation pool. But the ghosts and echoes of his family are also pressing in around him. He can feel them tugging at him, trying to pull him backwards into a past that isn't his, isn't even _Ben's_.

This was before Ben. Fighting the Empire was easier than raising him. He can tell. There's a sort of bewitching simplicity to the leftover desires here – fight, win, survive, destroy. None of the doubt or confusion or concern that he picked up throughout his childhood, all centered around him, the boy too powerful for his own good.

This was before _connections_ – before anything stronger than comradeship. Before Han and Leia were a couple, before Luke and Leia were Vader's children. Connections make everything messy. They tie people together with that clinging warmth until they can barely move. Snoke was showing him that, when he told him to kill Han Solo. It's a sign of Ren's weakness that murder wasn't enough to sever the link completely.

And Hux... Ren shivers. He almost bonded with Hux, almost forged the strongest connection possible with him, because he wanted that warmth back. Pathetic.

Taking a long breath, he dives into the pool, letting the cold, clean water strip away the mud that still clings to his mind. It takes an indeterminate amount of time, but finally he begins to approach that perfect state, aware of the hangar and the shapes within it, of Hux, his muttering, his movements, of the wind and driving snow outside, of the shadows of the past, and of the glacial beat of his own heart. All of it equal. None of it touching any emotion. It's… serene.  
  
And the serenity is broken almost as soon as he achieves it, by the loud clang of Hux throwing a spanner. He curses – in Arkanian, that's how frustrated he is.

“You won't start! Why won't you fucking start?” he yells at the speeder.

Ren clamps down on a rush of anger at being interrupted, leaping fluidly from the X-wing.

“There's nothing wrong with you! I fixed _everything_ , and you _dare_ defy me, you piece of rebel trash!” Hux wants to kick it. He wants to kick _Ren_ , as he stalks up, leaning into the cockpit and trying the throttle.

Hux's face twists into a sneer when it doesn't magically work for him. “I've tried that, believe it or not.”

Ren ignores him. He can feel blankness in the machine, when he sends his senses into it. Concentrating, he puts his hand above the console, carefully calling up a spark of blue lightning and zapping the speeder with it. It splutters to life, repulsor drive whining, discoloured fumes billowing from the thrusters at the back. He turns to grin, victorious, at Hux.

The man is frozen still, eyes wide and fixed on Ren's hand. He was expecting indignance, or maybe even a tiny bit of gratitude, but… Frowning, he reaches for Hux's mind, finding it a whirling mess of terror. He's battered by sharp fragments of a memory – Snoke's clawed hand, crackling blue lightning, and _pain_ , so much pain.

Ah. He didn't realise Snoke had punished Hux like that. Thought it was reserved just for him. That must have been when Hux delivered the still-unconscious Ren to the Supremacy – he's pretty sure even Snoke can't use lightning remotely.

“Hux—” he starts, not moving, _not_ raising his hands in surrender – the gesture would be wildly misinterpreted right now.

“You can do that too.” Hux's voice is very faint.

“I won't.”

Hux doesn't seem to hear him – he's closed off with fear. His eyes flick up to Ren's face and he's bloodlessly pale.

“Not like that, please. Anything else, just don't do it like that.” He's picturing Ren electrocuting him. The lurch in Ren's stomach is nowhere near as violent as during the heat, but it still makes him queasy.

“Hux,” he says, stepping closer and pulling the shaking, unresisting man into his arms. “Hux, I _won't_.”

He wants to wipe this perfect fear out of Hux's mind. He probably _could_ , but he doesn't know what else would be lost with it. He can't stand to lose any of Hux.

Ren groans silently. Fuck. He'd thought he'd been making progress, breaking free of the tether between them, but as soon as he touched Hux's panic and distress, the man was _his_ omega again.

Hux swallows, trying to get a grip on himself. He hates begging. Generals don't beg – they don't need to. Generals give orders. He had promised himself he wouldn't beg Ren for his life, but he knows he will, when it comes to it. He's that weak.

“Me too,” Ren whispers, entirely without thinking.

“What?”

“Neither of us is as strong as we wish.”

Hux doesn't respond, doesn't move until there's a coughing splutter from the speeder, then he shrugs Ren off.

Sighing, Ren heads back into the base's tunnels. Hux will concentrate better if he gives him some space, after that scare. The lightning is another relatively new ability, and he doesn't have good control of it yet – he can create a tiny spark, or unleash an electrical storm, nothing in between.

Unlike temperature manipulation, he's never thought of using lightning for anything except destruction. With more practice, he might be able to generate a steady current, then maybe he could recharge power cells, or…

His fists clench. Something so _mundane_ is hardly worthy of the power of the dark side, however useful it would have been here.

From the way the sky outside had changed, he must have been meditating for several hours. He's running on autopilot now, munching a ration bar while he considers the success – and failure – of that session. He'd been aware of Hux's building frustration, but the snap had still taken him by surprise, and it shouldn't have. He should have let it wash through him, no more than data.

When he feels warmth in his hands, he glances down to find he's made a mug of caf. For Hux. To apologise. Fuck's sake. But still, there's no point in wasting it, so he troops back to the hangar, reaching for Hux's mind, checking whether his shock has subsided.

It _has_ , but in its place, there's a kind of fatalistic certainty. Hux knows Ren _needs_ him, to get off Hoth. Right now Ren must be playing nice, keeping a lid on his anger and resentment, to trick Hux into hoping that if he cooperates, Ren won't kill him afterwards. Hux has decided this is the best explanation for Ren's weirdly placid behaviour, and doesn't seem to realise that he's crediting Ren with far more control over his emotions than he's ever displayed before.

Well... As long as Hux _does_ cooperate, it hardly matters _why_.

The speeder is powered off now, and Hux is kneeling behind it, elbow deep in the fins, trying to re-angle them. He grunts vaguely, when Ren sets the mug beside him with a clink, not looking up. Ren nearly warns him that it's hot, but bites the comment off just in time.

Not wanting to linger, he goes to stand in the shadow of the Falcon, listening to Han bickering with Chewie. It's not _real_ , it's not what they actually said – he has no way of knowing that – but he can feel them, through Ben.

Hux is so unlike Han. That thought ambushes him, toppling him out of his semi-trance. Han was all instinct and emotion, like his love for the Falcon could keep it in the air. Hux… he's methodical. Detailed. A perfectionist. It's grating on him to have to do a patch job on the speeder. He has to keep reminding himself that it only needs to get them to the probe droid and back.

Hux's frustration is mounting again, though the speeder's engines sound like they're running smoothly.

“What is it?” Ren calls, before the man can wind himself any tighter. How strange that _he's_ the one intervening to head off a tantrum.

“The navicomputer is dead,” says Hux shortly, frowning at the console display, then down at a scrap of paper. “We can't put the droid's coordinates in. And we can't get terrain information up. We'll be flying pure VFR. Which means going slower than anticipated. Which means something crucial might overheat...”

Hux remembers the rough direction from yesterday, but that's not enough to risk the endless ice of Hoth.

“Nav is integrated into the speeder's control system,” Hux carries on, more to himself than Ren. “I could replace the whole thing, but odds are none of the other junk in here has a working system, much less a compatible one.”

“I can guide us,” says Ren.

Hux stops pacing. “You can sense the droid?”

“Yeah, now that I know it's out there.” Hux shrugs – Ren found Echo Base after all, he doesn't have any reason to doubt him. Except force of habit.

“Okay,” he says, pushing his hair back. “Then… we can go.”

The weather is clear, and there should be enough time before sunset to get there and back – assuming nothing goes wrong. If they were being prudent, they'd wait until tomorrow morning, but neither of them can stand that. Hux bundles up some of the tools, shoving them into the gunner footwell, and Ren hands him a pair of googles.

“I'll drive,” they say at the same moment. Glares are exchanged. Hux isn't quite childish enough to say 'I fixed it, I get to drive', but it's there in his head.

It makes no sense – Ren is categorically a better pilot, and he's got the Force to assist him, rather than relying on visuals only. But something in Hux demands the rush, the danger, the exhilaration – he's been cooped up underground for days. He wants to feel alive, one last time. He wants to know he fixed something and it worked.

“You can drive on the way back,” Ren offers.

Hux's glare remains steady. He doesn't believe for a second that he's coming back from this trip. Thinks it's cruel of Ren to pretend he is.

“Oh, kriffing hell, fine! _You_ drive.” Ren can probably feed him information about upcoming terrain, and keep them going in the right direction, as long as the man doesn't try to boot him out of his head.

Ren climbs up, folding himself into the rear-facing seat – he's too tall for it, his knees are pressed awkwardly against the rim of the canopy, but it would hardly be better in the front seat. Once Hux has buckled in, he opens the throttle, and Ren feels his relief as the speeder jerks in response, engine changing pitch as it moves out of idle.

The controls are basic, and pretty standard, but it's obvious Hux isn't familiar with them. He stalls while they're still in the hangar, and Ren has to catch them before they smack into the cave floor.

“Shut up.”

“Did I say anything?”

“It's tricky to get the right balance of thrust and repulsion at low speeds.”

“I didn't say anything.” Ren doesn't bother keeping the mirth out of his voice.

Hux grits his teeth and tries again, and this time the speeder slides forward more confidently, picking up speed as they leave the cave. They both yank their goggles down against the sudden snow-brightness. Ren sends Hux his impression of the droid, and gets a muted acknowledgement in return as he adjusts their course.

The cave recedes behind them, vanishing into the slopes of the mountain range. Hux accelerates carefully, watching the temperature gauges as he does, alert for any sign of failure. Ren can't sense any weaknesses in the speeder, not worsening ones anyway. The canopy rattles – it was dented and doesn't quite seal properly anymore – but honestly it's a relief the rattling isn't coming from something more crucial…

“Let me know if we start trailing smoke,” says Hux over his shoulder.

Up ahead, the ice shelf they're on drops away – Hux has sort of spotted it, as a jagged line in the snow, but Ren confirms how far the drop is so he can adjust the repulsors.

Feeding Hux information like this would be exceptionally tricky, if he hadn't spent days in the man's head, privy to how his thoughts work. Hux is receptive for the same reason – he's used to Ren's presence, used to _not_ trying to block him out. It helps that most of his concentration is on flying – it leaves less opportunity to reject the foreign information.

 _< Swing round this next headland – it's too steep to go straight over>_ he sends, and Hux angles them out to the right.

Hoth is beautiful, in a stark way. It's much easier to appreciate that when you aren't fighting through the ice and snow on foot. It's easier to appreciate _anything_ when you aren't fighting it, Ren amends, thinking of Hux. The man has noticed it too, the way the pristine snow glitters – it's there in his mind, alongside his elation at how well the speeder is functioning, and his fierce determination to reach the droid.

There's a heat dispersal alarm blaring from the console by the time Hux brings them down on a flat-ish area of snow, and he's glad to be able to cut the engines and let the speeder cool. After they clamber out, Hux does a quick circuit, inspecting for further damage, pleased to find none.

The residual heat should keep it from freezing solid for a while – longer if Ren can shield it from the wind. Ren nods, confirming he's already put a bubble around the speeder. Hux blinks, doing a belated double-take. It shouldn't matter to _him_ what condition the speeder is in. Funny how hard it is to fully let go of the expectation of staying alive.

He looks around at the ridges of rock and snow. “I don't see it.”

Ren can feel the droid beeping, forlorn and forgotten under the snow. “I think it snagged an arm and got itself stuck, and the snow buried it. I'll get it out.”

“Gently,” Hux reminds him.

“Of course _gently_ , I'm not an imbecile.” He concentrates, pushing the snow aside, building it into a mound as he digs into the crevice.

When he can finally see the battered black droid, he gives it an experimental tug, but it's wedged in tight. There's a scrape of metal and a faint beep – and a hiss from Hux.

“Don't break it! That's enough – I can get to the panels from here.” He crouches down, brushing snow off the droid's surface with a gloved hand, finding the edge of a panel and levering it open, careful of the antenna. Selecting the smallest tools from the bundle he brought with them, he sets to work on the flashing electronics inside.

Ren steps away before Hux can bark at him for blocking the light. He's got an insulating bubble around Hux, and another around the speeder, but he lets his own dissipate, accepting the bitter wind as it stings his exposed face.

The sun is slowly approaching the horizon, turning the snow pink and gold with its parting rays. They've not got long before the dark creeps back in, and with it even worse cold.

Behind him, Hux is wavering. Once this is done, Ren will have no further reason to keep him alive.

But…

But he could destroy the droid instead. He'd probably be able to do it before Ren could react, just snip the wrong wire, set off the self-destruct. Boom. No rescue. And he'd get to go out on his own terms, instead of begging Ren for mercy he won't grant.

But he will definitely be dead. And his policy is to always take 'probably dead' over 'definitely dead'. Clinging to life doesn't make you a coward; it makes you a survivor. He blows out a long breath that billows in the cold, and tries to keep his shivering hands steady.

Ren closes his eyes in relief. He was poised to stop Hux, if he made a wrong move, but he wanted to find out what he'd decide, of his own volition.

When Hux stands up, knees creaking, Ren turns to face him. The fading sunlight makes his hair shine, but he looks so, so tired. Like he needs a solid week of sleep, to make up for the stress of this episode.

“Done?”

Hux nods. “It was already sending the base's coordinates, I just changed the frequency it was sending them on, so the First Order will pick it up.”

“And they'll come to investigate?”

“Yes. No one but senior officers should have access to that frequency. Even if they think it's somehow a Resistance trap, they'll investigate.”

“How long?” Their involuntary hyperspace jaunt took less than an hour, but any investigative mission would be considerably more cautious.

Hux is picturing the bridge of the Finalizer, calculating how long it would take for comms to receive the signal, realise what's odd about it, and report it to command.

“A compromised frequency will be treated as a high priority,” he says. “One day at most, assuming the fleet hasn't moved quadrant.”

 _Hux_ hasn't moved, at all, during this conversation. Ren can feel it's taking all his effort to stop his legs shaking, to avoid glancing down at Ren's hands, at the hilt of his lightsaber.

Now would be the ideal time, to dispose of him. Ren could leave his body out here, no one would find it. He could tell the First Order that Hux died in the crash, no one would question it.

Hux stares him down. _< What are you waiting for?>_ He didn't mean to project that.

“I'm not killing you here,” Ren says, letting the wind carry his quiet words to Hux.

“Why?” demands Hux.

“To prove you wrong.”

“That can't be it.”

“Can't it? It's not like you to underestimate how petty I am.”

“Ren. _Why_?” He _has_ to know. He doesn't want Ren to change his mind later.

Deflecting with humour clearly won't work. So. Something _true_ , but not the whole truth. 

“If you need a concrete reason, it's this: you just made the same decision again.”

“Don't waste my time being cryptic,” Hux snarls.

“Before your heat, when it was just starting, you tried to save me – tried to get me to leave you. You knew you would die, but you chose not to drag me down with you. And you've just done it again. Even thinking that I might very well kill you, you chose not to destroy the droid and trap me here.”

Hux's red-rimmed eyes have gotten very round. “Don't start thinking that's sentiment,” he snaps. “It would be a waste of Order resources for us _both_ to die.”

Ren has to laugh at that, because the First Order didn't factor into Hux's decision even slightly, and he must realise Ren can tell.

“I know it's just self-preservation, not sentiment. But you don't hate me. And I don't hate you either, you scheming, sycophantic pencil-pusher.”

He turns toward the speeder. “Come on. I'm driving on the way back.”

Hux follows him, climbs into the rear-facing seat, and buckles the harness, all completely mute. The adrenaline that's been propelling him for the last two days seems to have drained away, and minutes into their noisy, bumpy speeder ride, he sinks into a fitful sleep.

He doesn't wake, when they finally skid to a stop inside Echo Base's main hangar, smoke leaking from several points in the speeder's plating. Ren carries him back to their bed, ignoring the way Hux's fingers curl into his coat, and just… lies with him, all night, until he senses a First Order transport breach the atmosphere above them.

“Hux, they're here,” he says, shaking his shoulder.

The man is instantly awake. “Who?” he asks.

Ren closes his eyes, concentrating. “One transport – twelve stormtroopers, plus Mitaka.”

Hux is a little relieved. They won't have to face many incisive questions from the beta.

“Lieutenant Mitaka is one of my loyalists – he won't be disappointed to find me alive,” he says. He eyes Ren. “Though he might be with you.”

Abruptly, Ren realises _that's_ the only time Hux has used any of his omega traits on duty – when he was consoling a terrified Mitaka after Ren had choked him half to death. He'd had to use that soothing tone of voice just to get through to him.

They don't say anything else, until they're standing out on the plain, waiting for the transport to land. Beside him, Ren can feel Hux rebuilding his 'General' persona, putting it on like armour, like ice over snow. He wishes he had his helmet for the same reason, as if it would somehow help him contain the sprawling emotions that have ruled him while they’ve been here.

“Ren,” says Hux, tone clipped, “The shuttle malfunctioned, we crashed on Hoth, we sought shelter here until we could contact the First Order. If someone realises about the heat, fine – I went into an ill-timed heat, and you served me. If they _don't_ , we don't mention it. Clear?” He's waiting for Ren to refuse, to go back on their promise.

“One condition.”

“What?”

“Have your heats regularly from now on.”

Hux’s mouth pulls down.

“I don't mean _every_ heat, and I don't mean get someone to serve you. Just… regularly.” The idea of Hux inviting another alpha into his bed is… uncomfortable. But not rage-inducing.

“Very well,” says Hux. He doesn't like it, but they both want to avoid the potential for another situation like this, where Hux _needs_ an alpha or his body will tear itself apart. Strategically, it's an exploitable weakness, and Hux knows he might not get so lucky next time.

Lucky. Right. Pure _luck_ that Ren was with him...

As if on cue, Hux's thoughts turn to Snoke. There's no point omitting anything to him.

“I will, of course, assume full responsibility when we contact the Supreme Leader,” says Hux. His fear ramps up, flickers of lightning at the front of his mind.

“Getting stuck here wasn't your fault,” says Ren, carefully.

“Three days of it was,” Hux snaps. “Besides, I'm a General. Everything that happens on my ship is my responsibility, including sabotage.”

He's no closer to figuring out who orchestrated their hyperspace jump. Ren is wavering, wondering whether he should tell him, now that the heat is over. Snoke probably isn't going to _punish_ Hux for helping with Ren's training...

But before he can decide, the transport makes its final descent, engine roar drowning out anything he might have uttered.

And Hux gives him that thin, knife-sharp smile, and turns away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Not _quite_ a proper happy ending, but I do have a sequel planned, featuring Ren’s rut.
> 
> (Nobody should hold their breath for that, cos it’s just scraps at the moment, and goddamn I write _slow_...)


End file.
